The Heart of the Yiga
by bladeofthebookworms
Summary: After an unfortunate encounter with several moblins, Link sets out to brave the Gerudo Desert, and a Yiga assassin finds herself questioning what she has been taught. Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

**1\. Protector**

The sun blazed in the sky, shining down on the narrow ravine of sandstone below. Animalistic grunts of exertion and pain echoed between the walls, along with the sounds of metal clashing on metal and bombs exploding on the ground.

Link panted heavily, sweat dampening the neck and underarms of his tunic. He grit his teeth, broadsword gripped in one hand, wooden boko shield in the other. _Plagues upon the day bokoblins learned how to make bomb arrows,_ he thought angrily, diving out of the way as yet another projectile soared towards him; the ground vibrated beneath his feet as it exploded. Link whipped his bow from his back and nocked an arrow in a swift, fluid motion, aimed briefly, and fired at the bokoblin archer perched atop a small lookout tower nearby. As it uttered its death wails he bent to retrieve his blade and turned to face the moblins converging on him, armed with heavy clubs and swords of their own.

Before they had the chance to surround him, he whirled and dashed away, towards the now-empty lookout tower. Sheathing his blade he propelled himself up the ladder and once again pulled out his bow, firing an arrow into the brow of the nearest moblin and sending it reeling backwards, howling in agony. But its comrade hurled a stone into the air; it struck Link's stomach and he doubled over with a grunt of pain, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Gritting his teeth he forced himself to straighten, holding his shield defensively in front of him. The hot sun burned down on him; a bead of perspiration trickled between his shoulder blades as he deflected another rock thrown at him. Shouting a fierce warcry, he jumped down from the lookout and buried his sword in the closest moblin's chest, swiftly ending its life and rolling away as it crumpled in death. Three more remained.

A massive club swung down towards him; he raised his shield to defend himself and the guard shattered. Pain erupted in his left arm and he gasped in agony, black spots dancing across his vision as he fought the instinct to fall to his knees and hug the splintered limb to his chest. Features twisting in a grimace of pain he staggered, eyeing the moblin that had struck him and struggling to maintain his grip on his broadsword. Fire lanced through his broken arm all the way up to his shoulder; the limb hung uselessly at his side, grotesquely misshapen. The moblins converged. _They know I'm weaker now. I can't win this one_ — _better to run, to live and fight another day._

But the moblins had different ideas.

One of them lunged with its blade; Link deflected the blow and plunged his blade hilt-deep into the monster's gut and it groaned, crumpling to the ravine floor as Link whirled to face the remaining two moblins. His breath caught in his throat as a particularly fierce wave of pain jittered up his arm and his vision wavered as the next monsters each attacked at once. The first he dodged, escaping only with a shallow gash on his shoulder; the second he parried, letting loose with a flurry of attacks that forced the moblin to drop its club, allowing Link the opening he needed to impale its heart.

He heard the whoosh of a blade behind him and ducked in time to keep his head from being forcibly removed; then he spun around and blocked the moblin's next blow. This one was stronger than the others; its skin was a splotchy brown and white, whereas the others had been blue. This was the one he had shot in the forehead; even then it seemed barely deterred. With a gravelly roar it attacked again, fervently swinging its gleaming blade while keeping its shield tucked protectively close to its torso. Link backed towards the lookout before realizing that he would never be able to climb the ladder with his arm in its current state. _What to do… what to do…_

The moblin stabbed at him; Link dove to the side and rolled to his feet, his vision wavering as shards of agony encircled his mangled arm. With a grunt of pain he gripped his sword defensively, parrying a violent onslaught of furious attacks, fighting to keep his grip on the hilt of his weapon. At last the moblin broke through his defenses; its blade slashed his side and he gasped as a new fire erupted there, hot blood spewing forth. He staggered; the moblin drew back slightly, growling in anticipation. Link used the creature's brief hesitation to jump up and swing his blade with all the remaining strength in his good arm, lopping off the moblin's head.

A relieved sigh sounded from behind him. Breathing heavily, blood streaming from numerous lacerations, he turned to face the woman hiding behind a boulder several paces away. Tears of gratitude shone in her eyes as she stepped out of the shadows and clasped her hands together. "You saved my life," she sobbed, managing a few wobbly steps before sinking to her knees. "I—I'm so sorry!"

Link gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's not your fault," he murmured. "The Calamity affects us all."

She nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes, and hurried away from the scene of the battle, down the ravine towards the stable around the corner.

Link headed in the opposite direction, adrenaline fading from his limbs as pain set in and blood flowed freely from his wounds. He preferred solitude.

The first time he had arrived at a stable after reawakening without his memories several months ago, he had been wounded from an encounter with several monsters that hadn't ended so well for him. The stable folk had tried to keep him in bed until they were absolutely certain he had healed, and although they had been thoroughly knowledgeable on how to care for horses, they knew a good deal less about treating Hylians. No; he would rather nurse his wounds in private.

His horse, Mist, stood obediently beside the ravine wall, grazing on several stalks of dry grass with Link's satchel of food and waterskins tied to her back, forming a makeshift saddle. The horse looked up as he approached, whickering nervously as she caught the scent of blood.

"Sorry," Link muttered, digging around for an apple and holding it out to her by way of apology. Then he set about tending his wounds, pouring water on the gash in his side before wrapping it in a strip of cloth torn from his cloak. He did the same for the wound on his shoulder; he couldn't quite wrap a bandage around it so he wadded up the cloth and shoved it under his shirt—form-fitting as it was, it would keep enough pressure on the injury to keep it from bleeding.

Then with a heavy sigh he examined his arm. It had swollen; the sleeve of his tunic was uncomfortably tight around it, and the slightest movement caused sharp pain to twinge through him. _Can't do much for that out here… I'll have to wait until I get back to a village._ He wrapped it in a sling, his vision wavering and low, involuntary grumbles of pain escaping his throat.

At last, with a deep sigh, he drank deeply from his waterskin and devoured several of the mushrooms he had collected before leaning against the side of the ravine and closing his eyes, falling swiftly asleep.

* * *

Khana peered over the edge of the cliff, glaring down at the sleeping hero below. _Now's your chance,_ she thought. _Kill him before he wakes up. He's wounded—this is your best chance!_

But as she looked at him, curled up in pain even in unconsciousness… as she remembered how he had so willingly thrown himself into battle to save the life of another, even when it could have caused his own death… she had never seen such selflessness before, nor had she thought it possible.

" _Hylians are a selfish lot, consumed by their lust for wealth and prosperity,"_ Master Khoga had explained when she was a child of four. " _Their self-proclaimed 'hero' is the worst of them all—he goes about seeking glory and riches, to name the least of his faults."_

But the young man lying on the ravine floor had not been selfish—not as far as she could tell.

Khana closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to sort through the difference between what her mind and eyes were telling her. _Master Khoga's word is law and truth,_ she insisted stubbornly to herself. _I'll kill that whelp… when the opportunity arises. Of_ course _he would defend a_ Hylian. _They're_ his _people, after all. I'll wait until the time is right… until he can look into my eyes and see his death at the hands of the Yiga Clan._

* * *

Link awakened with a grimace of pain; his shattered arm continued to ache and throb, and his gashed side burned. _It's infected,_ he realized with a groan, prodding it gently. _I've got to find someone who can help._

Not the stable folk, that was certain. They would fuss and talk and keep him bedridden until a traveller with medical skills happened upon them. Not likely; he doubted that very many people would voluntarily go so far south, to face blazing heat and monsters and even a hulking _hinox,_ for Din's sake. And anyway it wasn't as if he had weeks at his leisure to recuperate—the Divine Beasts were loose, and Calamity Ganon could strike at any time. Zora's Domain was in danger of being _flooded._

Link nodded decisively. _I can't spare the time. I'll just keep going, and hope that I recover on my own. I'll have to buy alcohol somewhere to clean my wounds, but that shouldn't be too difficult…_

With a groan he heaved himself onto Mist's back and urged her onwards, westward through the ravine. It would be another hot day; the sun hadn't fully risen and yet he could already feel its heat.

But he slowed to a stop moments later when the sound of weeping reached his long ears. Concern warmed his heart and he dismounted stiffly, Mist following him to the shade of a craggy overhang where a Gerudo woman sobbed into her hands.

"Hey," Link called out softly. "Anything I can do?"

She looked at him with eyes red from tears. "I—I don't think so," she sniffled, looking him up and down. "H-how old are you?"

It was an odd question, but she was clearly distraught and thus not in her right mind. Link scratched his head. "Funnily enough, I can't… remember." He offered a sheepish smile. "But I think I'm about sixteen or seventeen…"

Her face fell. "Then… you're not him."

"Who?"

She burst into tears again. "M-my true l-love!" she wept, putting her head down. "I'm almost a _decade_ older—it wouldn't…"

Link sat down beside her, wincing a little at the pain predominant in his body, and gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Well… men aren't allowed in Gerudo City—it's against tradition." A wistful smile emerged onto her face. "But I've always dreamed of setting out in search of my own true love. It's always frightened me before, but I finally mustered up the courage to leave." The tears returned in full. "It was an _awful_ idea! Everyone was right—no man would value my skills; all I can do is sew and sew and _sew_ —and I'm so afraid! There are too many monsters—lizalfos and keese and chuchu and Din knows what else—I don't think I can handle it!"

Link stiffened. The words had struck a familiar chord within him, and in his mind he heard himself uttering the same phrase in a squeaky youthful voice before a tall man in armor with dark golden hair. " _I don't think I can handle this!"_

The tall man had placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "Neither did any of the heroes of old, Link. Yet they did so anyway, because they knew it was the right thing to do."

Link inhaled deeply, returning to the present. The Gerudo was still weeping beside him, unsure and afraid. Just as he had been as a child. He cleared his throat. "It's an admirable goal you have," he assured her. "And… _when_ you succeed, your family will thank you for generations to come. You say that you don't think you can handle the world outside of Gerudo City… so did all those who came before you, seeking the same thing. But they continued anyway, for they knew it was the right thing to do."

He felt uncomfortable speaking so much, but when peace and gratitude settled upon the Gerudo's features, he knew he'd done the right thing. "Thank you," she smiled, wiping her tears away. "I… what is your name?"

"Link," he answered with a dip of his head.

"I'm Rhondson," she returned, getting to her feet. "I'll never forget you, Link."

He smiled sadly. _And I won't forget you… I hope._ "Good luck in your travels. Don't give up on the world just yet; you've barely scratched the surface."

He got to his feet with a low grumble of pain that he tried hard to suppress, but Rhondson noticed; she reached out and gripped his free arm, her teary eyes wide with concern. "If you continue west, you'll come across the Kara Kara Bazaar. There's an inn there… someone will be able to treat your wounds."

Link nodded his thanks and Rhondson jogged away, heading east through the ravine. Link returned to Mist and rode steadily in the direction the Gerudo had indicated, fighting to sit straight despite the burn in his side and shoulder and the growing ache throbbing in his shield arm. He would ride past the stable without stopping, continuing east towards Gerudo City.

* * *

Khana's eyes narrowed in deep contemplation. So he was kind to the Gerudo as well as his own people. _But Master Khoga_ said… _he_ said _that the Hero was the_ worst _of the Hylians—who_ rejected _the Sheikah tribe and blamed them for Calamity Ganon's return! His kind are cruel, and… and selfish, and bloodthirsty and racist…_

But this young man, scarcely younger than she, had seemed tender, compassionate, and kind, slow to draw his sword.

Khana shook her head vehemently. No. Master Khoga was always right. Of the races of Hyrule, Gerudo were quite similar to Hylians in appearance. _That must be it. As soon as he comes across anyone else, I'll see his true colors._

She could have killed him then. It would be a simple task to jump from her ledge, use dark Sheikah magic to freeze time, and fire two arrows into the back of his neck before he even knew what had happened. But she could not bring herself to do so—not yet. Not until the inklings of doubt in her mind were quashed and her faith in Master Khoga restored.


	2. Chapter 2

**2\. The Thunderhelm**

 _Several days prior..._

* * *

Link was soaked through and through. His hair was plastered to his face; his boots squelched with every step. Thunder shook the mountainside and he looked around furtively; only moments ago he had seen lightning strike a nearby pine, reducing it to burned, twisted black wood in an instant. The same fate would befall _him_ if he wasn't careful; of that he was certain.

He shivered, continuing up the sloping path along the cliffside. He had thus far come across only a few lizalfos, but Prince Sidon had warned him to be cautious. There would be more of those cunning creatures up ahead.

Part of him had been surprised when he first saw a Zora swimming in the river as he travelled along the shore. But deep down, he had expected the sight of the fish-like, amphibious humanoid. _So I'm remembering_ some _things, at least,_ he thought bitterly, shoulders slumped as he went on, up the winding grassy path.

All at once there was silence, so profound and unexpected that Link froze in his tracks. Then the sound—an ear-splitting crack so deep that the ground vibrated and his heart trembled. A flash of blinding light; searing pinpricks of pain attacked his innards, drawing a hoarse sob of anguish from his throat as he collapsed, blackness eating at his vision, his skull throbbing in agony. He barely noticed that he never hit the ground, that he was falling… falling… falling to the river down below…

* * *

"...found him…"

"...the river…"

"...poor kid…"

"...for _days…"_

He was warm… dry and warm. A slight breeze kissed his torso. Breathing felt strange, almost as if he had to force himself to inhale. His body was deadweight; he could hardly bring himself to move, except to open his eyes. Doing so made his head start to pound anew and he winced, but he was able to deduce where he was—amber firelight; a fresh breeze; a bed's canopy over his head… he was in a stable.

"He's awake!" A dark-auburn-haired woman appeared in his line of sight, wearing a conical hat and a leather vest. "How do you feel?"

Link opened his mouth to speak, but only a feeble groan escaped his lips.

The woman pursed her lips in concern and pushed back his bangs in a motherly way. "Don't you worry; we'll take care of you here. Kish's making you some hot stew—you must be hungry; you've been unconscious _four days_ since we found you floating down the river. You were in a bad state, no doubt about that, but we took you in, no problem, and prayed to Farore for someone with proper knowledge in the healing arts to come here; I'm afraid we only really know how to care for horses. But fortunately a couple came through here yesterday; they've been out in the wild for several weeks, and they knew how to treat your burns, and I—"

"Alright, alright, Breen—that's enough," grumbled a deep masculine voice, drawing near along with a delicious smell; Link's stomach growled. "Poor kid's only just woken up and you're talking his ear off. Let him be."

"Oh, very well then," the woman huffed, moving away. The face of a bearded fellow with a similar hat replaced her.

"Just keep calm, alright, kid?" the man (who must have been Kish) said. He helped Link move into a sitting position; while his limbs did not feel quite as heavy as they had been when he first opened his eyes, he still didn't think he was capable of moving on his own. He looked down at himself for the first time and a jolt of horror went through him. There were the familiar scars he'd had when first he awakened, and then there was the burn, angry and red, flowering across the left side of his chest and upper shoulder.

 _The lightning did this,_ he thought, feeling numb at the mere sight of the strange wound. But he was grateful that at least he could remember the events leading up to his surrender to unconsciousness; it had been terrifying, awakening only a month or so ago in an underground chamber he had no memory of, not knowing where he was or what had happened or even _who_ he was. He hadn't even known his name until a tantalizingly-familiar voice addressed him as "Link."

He blinked slowly, forcing himself back to the present as Kish spooned soup into his mouth. It was delicious; warm and creamy, with savory chunks of meat, herbs, and mushrooms that slid easily down his throat, but he felt rankled, having a grown man feed him. With each passing moment, more and more feeling returned to his numb, rubbery limbs; he felt sure that he could feed himself.

He tried to speak again, and this time he managed a few croaking words. "I… can do it…" he rasped.

Kish looked surprised. "Oh. Alright, then." He handed Link the wooden bowl of stew and the wooden spoon he had been using; Link shovelled spoonfuls into his mouth as fast as he could with his weakened arms.

"Thank you," he murmured to Kish, his voice less rough this time.

Breen bustled back over to him, bearing a cloth soaked in yellow goo. "Now you just keep this on your burns," she told him, draping it over his shoulder. "Zyle made this just for you out of yellow chu jelly."

Its damp touch sent a chill through him, but it eased the prickling of his burns and some of the numbness in his arm continued to fade away at what seemed like a faster rate than it had moments ago. But before he could express his gratitude, Breen pulled up a chair and leaned forward, her brows knit in concern. "Now, what happened? How did a kid like you end up floating down the river, alone and injured?"

Link's lips twitched in an attempt to smile. _It's a long story._ "Well… I was travelling towards Zora's Domain," he began, gulping down another mouthful of soup. His voice had almost returned to normal.

Kish, leaning against the wall, barked out a laugh. "Zora's Domain has been locked beneath raging thunderstorms since… well, longer than I can remember. I'd wager that lightning strikes more often there than anywhere else in the entire kingdom. It's no wonder you were hit."

Link nodded slowly, with a slight wince. "I need to go there anyway; the Zora are in grave danger."

" _No one_ goes to Zora's Domain anymore," Kish chortled gently. "It's too dangerous."

Link shrugged, swallowing down the last bit of soup and setting the empty bowl on his lap. " _Someone_ needs to help them," he protested. "And if this has been going on for _years,_ that means no one has found a solution. But I think I know what to do, so I'm going there, no matter what."

"You'll just get struck by lightning again and end up right back here," Breen fretted, wringing her hands.

Link raised his eyebrows skeptically. _Do you know the odds of getting struck by lightning_ twice? "I have to do this. I… don't know how to explain…"

Kish frowned. "Listen. I normally wouldn't say this, but… I think you should give up. It's a great goal you have, but if you pursue it you'll end up _dead."_

Link swallowed. The same thought had occurred to him more than once. _But I_ can't _give up._ "I have to leave," he insisted. And though he still felt weak and numb and his head throbbed, he swung his legs out of bed and got wobbily to his feet. "It's… it's the right thing to do."

Kish met his gaze solemnly. "You're really set on doing this, aren't you." It was not a question. "Look, kid… neither of us want you to throw away your life so recklessly. You seem like a good person."

"I'm not thr—"

"Which is why I'm gonna let you in on a little tidbit of knowledge I've uncovered," Kish went on. "Have you heard of the Rumor Mill?"

Breen scoffed. " _You_ read the Rumor Mill?"

Kish's bearded cheeks darkened. "It's a fine way to gather information."

"Is it reliable?" Link asked.

"It's a _Rumor_ Mill," Breen reminded him, rolling her eyes. "Written by a traveller named Trasy who wanders from place to place, scouring the kingdom for tales of mysterious and juicy gossip for others to feed on."

Kish shrugged, brow furrowed with annoyance. "Doubt if you wish. The point is, I read once about a certain Gerudo trinket. The Thunderhelm. It's said to prevent the wearer from getting struck by lightning."

Link straightened. _And with the frequency of lightning striking on the path to Zora's Domain…_ He sucked in a deep breath. "And… it belongs to the Gerudo."

Kish nodded. "They're nice enough people. I've only met a few of them, but they seemed quite friendly."

Breen glared at him. "But _everyone_ knows that men aren't allowed in their city. It's a hopeless task—"

"It isn't," Kish insisted. "There's also been talk of a man that managed to get past the Gerudo guards. It's caused quite the scandal—if you swallowed your pride and read the Rumor Mill, Breen, you'd know about this."

Link chewed his lip thoughtfully. _I'll find this man, and I'll figure out how to get inside the city. Then I'll explain my situation—if they're as nice as Kish says, I'm sure they'll understand. And once the Zora are saved, I'll reclaim the Divine Beast of the Gerudo._ "Thank you both for everything. I need to leave now."

Breen's eyes widened in dismay. "But—but you need to rest! You're still recovering!"

Link met her gaze, silently willing her to understand. _My burns still hurt, true… but I've had enough of 'resting.' A hundred years of it, to be exact…_ "I can't stay. I know how to help the Zora, so it's my responsibility to do what I can for them, and I can't rest until that task is done."

Kish's eyes betrayed his concern, but he nodded solemnly with a heavy sigh. "Get the Thunderhelm," he advised. "If you don't, we'll never forgive ourselves. Or you."

There were tears in Breen's eyes. "I… I suppose there's no arguing with you," she said with a slight sniffle, moving over to the nearby table and lifting from it a bundle of deep red cloth and leather. "Take this. Your old shirt was burned; you couldn't have worn it anywhere. This should suffice in its stead; it used to belong to Kish when he was your age."

"Thanks," Link murmured, taking the tunic from her and gingerly putting it on, grimacing as it chafed against the lightning burns. When he had buckled the leather armor about his chest and arms, Breen pressed a bottle of yellow goop into his hands, presumably to be used on his burns.

"We won't forget you," Kish said. "Travel safely."

Link nodded his thanks. _And I hope I won't forget_ you.

With a deep sigh, he walked out into the bright afternoon and set out towards the Gerudo Desert.


	3. Chapter 3

**3\. Into the Desert**

Link sat upon Mist's back at the top of a small rocky hill at the end of the ravine. The Gerudo Desert stretched out beyond, a vast plane of rolling dunes and golden sand, reflecting the harsh light of the midday sun. Link grit his teeth. _The Kara Kara Bazaar. Head west. It's easy._

His Sheikah Slate, a miracle of ancient Sheikah tech with a built-in compass, would keep him on course; he did not fear getting lost.

But the gash in his side had bled through his makeshift bandages. The slice on his shoulder had become infected as well, and his shield arm, swollen to unbelievable proportions, felt as if it were full of needles.

He wasn't afraid of getting lost. No; he was afraid of dying before he reached the Bazaar.

Link swallowed tightly and dismounted, gritting his teeth at the pain and wobbling slightly, slumping against Mist's side. She turned her head, casting an anxious eye upon him as he made his way down the rockpile, skidding and skittering over the loose stones. He stopped when he heard the sound of hooves scraping against stone and turned to see Mist carefully picking her way after him.

"No," he insisted, shooing her off with his good hand. "It's not safe—go back!"

She tossed her head with a stubborn snort and continued after him.

Link sighed heavily, a rueful smile twisting his features.

He had come across Mist two days ago. After sneaking past a hinox slumbering lazily upon a large stone pillar between suspension bridges over a massive lake, he had been ambushed by mounted bokoblins armed with bows and spears. One of their ponies, a silver paint with a blond mane and tail, was limping heavily, favoring one of her hind hooves.

In that moment, Link had remembered that before awakening in the Shrine of Resurrection, he'd had a horse of his own. And he had known that the silver paint was injured in some way, and the stupid bokoblin either didn't know or didn't care.

Link had run off until the monsters stopped chasing him; then he approached more carefully, hiding behind a rock and dispatching the monsters from afar with his own bow. Freed of their burdens, the other horses had all run off—except for the silver paint.

Standing tall, Link approached from the side, murmuring soft, comforting words and pulling an apple from the satchel hanging from his shoulder. The pony eyed him nervously, scraping at the ground with one hoof, but she did not flee, and she took the apple when he held it out. He reached out to stroke her and she grumbled a warning, sidestepping away towards the ravine wall, but she didn't run. Link gave her another apple, and this time she let him touch her rugged coat.

After combing the tangles from her mane, he moved to her injured hind leg and stood facing her rump, running his hand down her leg until he reached her ankle. It was not swollen, as far as he could tell; despite her whickers of uncertainty he coaxed her to lift her hoof, and gently he removed the source of her limp—a large stone caught right where the foot was the most tender.

"Wish I could do more," he told her sadly, letting her lower her hoof and looking into her soulful brown eyes. He fed her another apple.

She had followed him then as he continued on his way; at last he decided to keep her, naming her Mist and fastening his pack, cushioned by his cloak, to her back with a spare bit of rope, thus creating a makeshift saddle that would have to suffice until he reached a stable to purchase one.

Of course, the next day he had been wounded by moblins, and going to a stable had become the last thing he wanted to do—he could not afford to be kept there, bedridden, until the stable folk deemed him fit to travel. Lightning burns were one thing; a broken arm and a gashed side and shoulder were another. It would be weeks, at least, before they let him out of there. He couldn't force the Zora to wait that long.

Now he stood on the soft sand of the Gerudo Desert, his various wounds pulsing with cold pain, Mist at his side.

"Good girl," he mumbled, pausing a moment to lean against her side. She was a small horse, a pony, but Link was a good deal shorter than almost everyone else he'd come across since awakening. Mist was the perfect size for him. Nevertheless, it required a great effort to haul himself once again onto her back with his one good arm.

The sun beat down on him as he urged her towards the west; his head pulsed and throbbed in time to the throbbing and pulsing of his various wounds, in time to the soft plodding of Mist's hooves as they sank into the sand at her feet. Sweat dampened his brow and underarms, making him feel feverish and unsteady.

His mouth was dry, and suddenly he realized that he was thirsty. He still had two and a half waterskins full, but because Mist had deigned to join him, he hesitated to drink more water himself, lest there not be enough for her. _If she dies because of me…_ His heart ached at the very thought. Mist had been in his company for nearly two days—longer than anyone else he'd been in contact with since awakening (besides Kish and Breen, but he didn't count them, as he'd been unconscious for nearly all of his time with them).

With a low groan he slid back down from her shoulders—they'd barely gone seven paces—and pulled his half-full waterskin from his satchel, opening the mouth as wide as it would go before offering it to his horse. With a twitch of her ears she slurped up the moisture, pushing her nose down as far as it could go until there was none left and she raised her head, gently nudging Link's chest. He smiled at the gesture, a brief glimpse of a memory tempting his mind—a dark bay stallion rubbing his nose against his chest with such fervor that Link nearly tumbled to the ground.

He shook his head slowly, replacing the empty waterskin and pulling out one of the full ones, eyeing it a moment before taking a quick drink, holding the cold liquid in his mouth before swallowing it down. _I'm small; I don't need as much water as a fully-grown horse._

The pain this time as he clumsily climbed onto Mist's back was worse than ever. He pulled the gash across his stomach the entirely wrong way and, as usual, his broken arm was pressed agonizingly between his chest and his makeshift saddle. His vision flickered and the world twisted wildly; his thoughts were muddled and foggy; when he regained full awareness he was slumped over his horse's back, his blood staining her mane and sweat coating his entire body like a stifling, itchy blanket.

He wanted nothing more than to lie across Mist's back and become dead to the world, but then he would not be able to tell her where to go. He could just barely see, in the west, on the edge of the endless horizon, what looked like a cluster of trees and what may have been a building. _The Bazaar._

"Let's go that way," he muttered, nudging Mist's sides and tugging slightly to the left on the reins he'd constructed out of rope shortly after the little horse decided to follow him. She tossed her head, setting off at a brisk walk through the whistling sands, as the afternoon sun blazed angrily down. Link's vision wavered.

* * *

Khana hesitated atop her position on the crest of the ravine. The instant the hero stepped into the harsh blazing sun he had begun to suffer from its heat, clothed as he was in thick leather armor, a heavy tunic, and tall boots better suited to taking him through the northern expanses of Hyrule. _The fool… one_ never _enters the deserts so clothed during the day._

At least she had learned one thing more about his personality—he seemed to care deeply about the welfare of his horse, letting her drink as much as she liked while sparing himself only a quick sip. This, too, was foolish of him, but Khana felt no vehemence, only pity. She wouldn't have to kill him; the desert would do so easily.

She paused a moment more, reflecting. She remembered, several weeks ago, reentering the Yiga Hideout after yet another unsuccessful attempt to locate the hero. The Clan had learned several days before that he'd been sighted, and so redoubled their efforts to kill him.

Khana's sister Ohnga, her elder by five years, had been sitting on a crate of bananas waiting for her, grinning wickedly despite the bloodied bandages around her sword arm. "Khana! Just in time to hear of my latest exploits!" she had laughed. "You wouldn't _believe_ how gullible this kid is. I pretended like I was crying, sitting on the side of the road and sobbing and looking as pitiful as I could. Up walks the hero—he couldn't have been much older than you—and he asks me if I was alright." Ohnga cackled. "The look on his face when I told him I wanted him dead—I'll never forget it! Priceless!"

Since then, Master Khoga had encouraged the Clan to set cunning traps for their target, instead of simply ambushing him without warning as they'd originally planned. It would provide him with a more fitting doom, Khoga explained.

But Khana's throat tightened as she thought of the hero—Link—stopping to save a woman from monsters, then later to comfort a weeping Gerudo. All of a sudden the Yiga Clan's decision to devise clever traps for the hero, traps that would wear him down emotionally as well as physically… it seemed like a cruel, twisted joke.

She began making her way back down the side of the ravine, fastening her rope to a thick pillar of stone and rappelling steadily over the edge. _Why am I doing this?_ She wanted to know.

Master Khoga's words entered her mind: " _The Hylians blamed us for the Calamity's return, though we had nothing to do with it! So we can either sit still and let those filthy goddess-serving dogs walk all over us, or we can fight and exact justice! And what better way to do that than to aid Calamity Ganon's return and help him reach his full potential?"_

It was the speech given to all those born into the Clan before they began their training. Khoga continued that to ensure the Calamity's rise to power, the hero had to be destroyed. Then the princess would eventually be overcome, and after that… Ganon would meet no resistance as he conquered the land of Hylia, destroying her chosen people.

 _And how does that help_ us? Khana wondered, jumping the last few feet to the ground and landing in an agile crouch before jogging through the end of the ravine, heading into the desert after her quarry. She had seen Hyrule Castle, steeped in the red darkness of Malice; when she was younger she had once even seen Calamity Ganon himself, flying around the once-majestic structure before a bright white light filled the highest tower and he plunged back inside. She had heard tales of how beautiful Hyrule had been before the Calamity struck—and granted, it was still beautiful, but many of the cities had been laid waste, and all across Hyrule many had lost their lives, were they Sheikah, Zora, Goron, Gerudo, Rito, or Hylian.

 _The Calamity did not differentiate then… what proof do we have that he will recognize the Yiga Clan's efforts on his behalf and spare us when he gains his full strength? What would life under his reign be like?_

She had seen the terrifying blood moon many times; it was said that Ganon's power reached its peak at such moments. So… would that mean that Hyrule would be plunged into an everlasting blood moon when Ganon was freed?

Khana shuddered despite the glaring heat. She didn't like the sound of that. It didn't seem like something she wanted to be a part of at all.

The seeds of doubt sprouted within her soul. _What was Master Khoga thinking?_

 _What were_ we _thinking?_


	4. Chapter 4

**4\. Night in the Desert**

To the north, the sun slipped slowly behind a rim of rugged rock faces looming over the desert. There was still an hour or more before night fell, but evening was well on its way.

Link wiped the sweat from his brow, shoulders slumped wearily as he hunched over Mist's back. His loyal, steady little horse had maintained a brisk walk for several hours, but he didn't dare push her too fast and to hard in this heat, so they would stop for the night when the last rays of scorching sun faded from the world.

All at once there was a strange noise—some sort of mechanical roar, like the sound of old, vibrating rusty hinges combined with the sound of rough stone grating against smooth stone, amplified to echo over the sands. Link's head jerked up and Mist whinnied nervously, sidestepping away.

Link had noticed the ominous cloud of sand swirling to the south only a few minutes into the desert, and as it hadn't seemed to be moving his way—or any other direction, for that matter—he hadn't paid it much heed until now.

A behemoth of a creature, covered in metal plates, with two humps formed of dome-like structures rising from its back, was emerging through the mists of roiling sand. Link's heart jumped into his throat as it tramped easily over the dunes, clouds of dust rising from the impact of its heavy feet, glowing with the pink light of Malice.

Lightning struck in the distance, carving an angry yellow gash in the storm, and Link flinched, the still-healing burn over his shoulder itching as if in response. Mist squealed fearfully, rising up onto her hind legs and skittering sideways to the north, tossing her head and snorting anxiously; Link grimaced, trying to balance on her back with only his one good arm to hold on, trying to stay calm for her sake.

"It's alright," he soothed her, leaning low over her back. "I won't let it hurt you. We'll be alright."

She tossed her head again, releasing a fearful whinny and breathing heavily, ears flat against her skull. With a groan Link slide from her back and reached steadily towards her, stroking the center of her forehead as gently as he could. "You're not the only one," he murmured. "I don't like the sight of that creature any more than you do. But look—it's going away now, see? Back into its storm. You're alright."

She scraped the ground with a hoof, but her eyes were locked onto his. He rested his forehead against hers, brushing his hand across her cheek and velvety nose until she seemed to have calmed down. Then he returned to his satchel and withdrew an apple, offering it to her with a smile. "Let's see if we can get a little further before stopping for the night, alright?"

He hesitated before returning to her saddle, his good hand placed upon her back in preparation. The raw flesh of his gashed side, still bleeding a little, was engulfed in burning flames of stinging pain; it had become progressively worse and worse with each moment that passed. His shoulder, though not as deep a wound, was beginning to get to that stage as well. And his arm… it was a package of splintered bone barely contained by his skin, pinned to his chest, swollen and agonizing.

Link swallowed tightly. _It's understandable that I want to stop for the day,_ he reasoned. _I'm injured and exhausted. I have every reason to rest._

He bit his lip tightly; the pain did not compare to the unpleasant sensations in his rent side and broken arm.

Images flashed through his mind. Impa's face, aged and worn and wise, creased with worry over the land she had spent her life trying to protect; the Zora he'd come across in his journey north, begging him to keep her home from being destroyed; Breen and Kish, who had cared for him the best they could despite not knowing who he was; Rhondson, uncertain and afraid yet trying hard to be courageous in a dangerous world she was only beginning to discover…

Guilt dragged at his heart. Gritting his teeth in anticipation he jumped from the ground, swinging a leg over Mist's back while tightly gripping her mane and withers with his good hand, a muffled yell of pain bursting from his grit teeth. "L-let's go," he panted, nudging her sides before hunching over (sitting straight pulled at the swollen flesh of his split side).

They continued without further incident, and Link noticed with relief that as the sunlight faded, so too did the Din-forsaken heat. No longer did he feel suffocated by the thickness of the air, nor by the coat of sweat he wore.

At last descended the darkness, and Link slipped from Mist's back, staggering slightly before retrieving his waterskin and letting the little horse slurp what she wanted. When she was finished, most of the water was gone; Link grimaced and sipped only a few mouthfuls, enough to dispel the unbearable sandpapery feeling that resided in his mouth.

He slumped to his knees with a low groan and lay down on his back, his good arm curled beneath his head. Then he lifted his gaze to the heavens and his eyes widened at the view; for a moment his pain was forgotten as he took in the vast landscape of twinkling stars and whirling galaxies spread out above him. There were millions of them—far more than he could ever count, spread across the glorious dark expanse, going on and on and on… a myriad of glittering, far away lights, twinkling gently down at him. Link breathed out a low sigh. _Maybe the desert's not so bad after all_ — _at least at night,_ he thought, weary eyelids slipping down as he surrendered to the fatigue gnawing at his soul and falling swiftly asleep.

* * *

Ice crept through his limbs. He was shivering violently; his broken arm pulsed with an intense ache made worse by the cold, in stark contrast to the flames in his side.

Instinctively he curled into himself with a weak groan, trying to conserve what warmth remained in his being. A familiar snort reached his ears and he opened his eyes to find Mist beside him, legs folded neatly beneath her as she slept soundly.

 _It's cold out here,_ he thought, realizing the fact for the first time. _But… we're in the desert…?_

Gritting his teeth he pushed himself into a sitting position, unable to prevent grumbles of pain from escaping his lips as he did so. His clothes, which had been soaked in sweat during the day, now offered him an icy blanket that chilled him to the bone. Grimacing, he dragged himself closer to Mist, huddling against her warmth, tumbling back into a fitful rest as the cold deepened.

* * *

The familiar hoarse, rattling sounds of stalmoblins reached his ears and his blood ran colder than the desert night as he jerked awake. Three of the undead creatures were approaching him, dragonbone clubs gripped in their skeletal hands.

 _Don't hurt Mist!_ was his first thought and he stumbled to his feet, snatching his sheathed sword from the ground and drawing it in time to knock the first monster to the ground and impale its skull, sending it collapsing back to the ground.

But in the next moment there was a solid _thwack_ —and something within him crunched. Winded, he was flung through the air, pain burning in his lungs, before finally colliding with a sand dune and rolling helplessly down, his broken arm and his ribs flaring with fire.

At last he came to a stop, breathless and bruised. His mind wavered as he struggled to regain his breath; when at last he could inhale it hurt badly to do so and a sharp cry escaped his throat. He ground his teeth together, pressing a shaking hand to his ribs, where the pain was fiercest. _Great Farore, they're broken,_ he realized, feeling the tender, rapidly-swelling lumps rising from his chest where the stalmoblin had struck him. And as his fingers trembled upon his chest he felt warm wetness soaking through his tunic. _Blood. That can't be good._

He clenched his teeth even tighter as he rolled slowly to his knees with an involuntary moan of anguish. Then he shoved himself to his feet and lurched back up the dune, breathing hard, shivering violently from the chill of the night air on his sweaty body.

But as he neared Mist(now wide awake and on her feet), he found that the stalmoblins had been killed. Only a pile of bleached bones remained, lying inanimate upon the sand, along with a red-fletched arrow…

* * *

Breathlessly Khana watched the hero as he studied her arrow. She hadn't meant to leave it behind, but it was either that or let him discover her. And she certainly wasn't ready for him to learn of her existence.

"Thank you," Link wheezed through the darkness, looking around. A thrill shot through Khana's heart as she heard his voice for the first time—low and masculine, teeming with both the vivacity of youth and the weariness of agony and fatigue. The hero crumpled to his knees before crawling feebly back towards his horse; then he flopped onto his back and fell back against the sand, blood glistening at the corner of his mouth.

Khana swallowed tightly, her heart hammering wildly. _I_ helped _him… I_ helped _our sworn enemy!_ _I can't believe it!_ It was treason of the highest order. Master Khoga would have her head for this when he found out.

She clenched her teeth, pulse racing as she tried to think of a way out of the fury that would surely befall her when the clan leader learned of her treachery. _I didn't do it out of compassion; I did it_ for _Master Khoga,_ she reasoned. _I did it so that the Yiga Clan would be responsible for the hero's demise. The Clan, and the Clan alone. Not some stupid stalmoblin._

Her speeding heart began to calm. _I'm_ not _a traitor. I'm just ensuring that the hero's death is more meaningful to everyone involved._

Khana nodded decisively. But as she gazed upon the young man's trembling figure, saw his brow creased with pain, saw the blood staining his lips… one arm was wrapped in a shoddy sling, and equally-shoddy bandages were wrapped around his side and shoulder…

She was all at once struck by how young he was, barely younger than she was, _too_ young to bear such crippling wounds, _too_ young to have so many enemies and no one to help him bear that burden.

 _Of course, he's actually a century older than that,_ she reminded herself. _He spent a hundred years recovering from near-fatal wounds within the Shrine of Resurrection._

 _But that doesn't count. He was… asleep. Or dead… I don't really know how that works, but…_

Suddenly it appeared to be a terrible waste to kill someone that the Hylians and the Sheikah (and all the other races of Hyrule) had worked so hard to save. _Why? What makes him so special?_

The answer came to her immediately: he was their hero, their only hope against the Calamity lurking within Hyrule Castle. _They know that Ganon will destroy them_ — _that Ganon will destroy the_ world.

It seemed to her then that the Yiga Clan was horribly selfish and blind. _If we kill this young man, how many others_ — _other than the Hylians and the Sheikah_ — _will be slaughtered by Ganon's hatred? And we have no guarantee that_ we _will be spared… this is_ pointless.

But she knew Master Khoga better than she knew Calamity Ganon—he had practically raised her, after all. _I'm not strong enough to rebel against him. Not yet._

She swallowed thickly, studying Link's prone figure. _Give me a reason,_ she begged him silently. _Give me a reason to join you._


	5. Chapter 5

**5\. Khana's Awakening**

Link did not want to awaken the following morning. He could barely breathe; something bubbled in his throat when he did so. A cough forced its way out of his throat, blood spattering onto the sand, and a thrill of fear shot through him at the sight. _That can't be good._

The sun was rising; already sweat dampened his underarms and the back of his neck. He remembered the unbearable heat of the previous day and shuddered. _Better get moving._

With a grunt of pained exertion he forced himself to stand; his limbs seemed to weigh thrice as much as they should have. He could barely get his leg up over Mist's back.

It was then that he noticed the blood on her mane. He frowned and squinting, trying to make sense of what had happened—had she somehow gotten hurt? But he could see no wound…

It dawned on him after several moments of plodding onward over the sand. He glanced down at his bandaged side and winced; dark wet blood had soaked entirely through the clumsy wrapings. It was _his_ blood staining the little mare's mane. _That explains why I'm feeling so weak,_ he thought.

The sun inched higher, and Mist trekked steadily towards the wavering image of the Bazaar slowly drawing nearer. He'd tried heading on at a swift trot, but without stirrups or an actual saddle or two functioning arms or any method at all to lessen the pain caused by his rear colliding with her spine at that pace, he decided after a few moments of torture to travel at a slower pace. _We'll be there by nightfall, if not sooner, regardless of how fast we travel,_ he reasoned, his heart light with hope.

Around mid-morning, drenched in stifling perspiration, he heard the sound of heavy wingbeats and looked up to see a massive bird struggling to stay aloft. He squinted; it seemed like the bird… was wearing clothes?

All at once it plunged downwards, feathers flying as it fell to the soft sand below and did not rise again.

Link's eyes widened in shock. Without really thinking about what to do next he turned Mist towards the creature and urged her into a swift canter that left him breathless from pain as they plunged over rolling dunes, the sun burning angrily all the while. His head whirled.

As they drew nearer he recognized the bird-like creature as one of the Rito, though he wasn't entirely certain how he knew so. It was sprawled on its back, clawed feet sticking upwards, wings splayed to the side, beak open and tongue lolling out as it panted heavily.

Link dismounted with a pained grunt, doubling over at the agony in his side before squaring his shoulders and approaching the Rito.

"Water…" it (or he) mumbled, eyelids fluttering weakly. "Too hot… sun…"

Link bit his lip, turning to face Mist once again, eying his satchel. _There's not enough water for me_ and _the bird_ and _Mist._ Of his three waterskins, one was entirely empty, one was almost completely depleted, and only the third was completely full.

He looked back at the Rito lying half-conscious in the sand and chewed his lip thoughtfully. _It's worse out here for him,_ he thought. _He's covered in thick feathers—something tells me that he comes from somewhere cold, where such thick protection is necessary._

 _I can't just leave him to die._

His mind made up, he grabbed both remaining waterskins and returned to the Rito's side, trying hard to ignore the sharp stabbing ache in his lungs and the burn of his side and shoulder and the agonizing ice crawling through his arm.

Kneeling on the hot sand, he uncorked the nearly-empty waterskin with his teeth and poured it slowly into the bird's mouth. With a slight cough, the Rito's eyes flickered open and he swallowed eagerly. Link continued to give him more until at last he sat up, blinking slowly.

"Urgh..." he groaned, raising a wing to brush the sweat from his eyes. "Oh. Well… fancy meeting a Hylian way out here in the middle of nowhere. The name's Guy."

Link dipped his head slowly and offered his name. "Are… are you alright?" he asked with concern, offering him the thus-far untouched waterskin.

The Rito swigged down several mouthfuls with a thankful sigh. "Much better, thanks. I _knew_ the Goddesses were watching out for me." Sitting up, he rested a wing across his short knees and peered at the sky. "You see, I want to travel the world, and I thought I might as well start from the south and work my way north. I know I won't be able to get into Gerudo City, but I at least wanted to _see_ it, y'know what I mean?" Guy laughed lightly and got to his feet, staggering slightly with a dazed groan. "That Din-accursed sun… we Rito aren't built for this heat." He fanned himself with a wing, looking down his long beak at Link in a manner that reminded him of someone he couldn't quite remember.

"Erm… neither are Hylians," he said softly, since the Rito seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

"Hrmm? What's that?" Guy asked, tilting his head to the side. "Forgive me; I didn't quite catch that."

Link cleared his throat. "Neither are Hylians," he repeated, noticing this time that his words seemed to run into each other. _Strange. When did that start?_

Guy nodded sharply. "Ah. No, I'd say they certainly weren't. But they are often… better prepared." He cleared his throat, averting his eyes in a nervous manner. "I was foolish enough to venture into the desert without a supply of cold darners—little blue dragonflies, as I'm sure you well know. But with them, I could have made myself a nice elixir to stave off the effects of this blasted heat… You wouldn't happen to have any, would you?" Greedily he eyed Link up and down.

Link hesitated. He had begun collecting the various bits and bobs that he came across since the day he awakened, following a memory awakened by the strange voice that had named him—a memory of that same voice, insisting that he gather as many specimens as he could. And as a result, his satchel was full of various plants, mushrooms, and even insect corpses that he'd found. He hadn't even thought of using the blue dragonflies he'd gathered on Mount Hylia in an elixir, but… "I think I might," he answered tentatively, his voice once again vaguely slurred. "Let me check." He lurched clumsily back to where Mist was waiting patiently, head lowered against the heat, and delved into his satchel for the delicate blue dragonfly bodies he had collected and wrapped in a strip of cloth easily torn from the sleeve of his old shirt.

Guy's amber eyes widened. "Yes! That's it!" He looked away again, as if ashamed. "I… I don't suppose you'd be willing to sell them to me for fifty rupees…?"

Link nodded, holding out the parcel of dead insects. Eagerly the Rito snatched them away, dropping a small violet gemstone into Link's palm in return. "Thank you once again," Guy grinned. "Ah… and thank you for the water, as well. I believe I can make it as far as the Bazaar, now. I might see you later, eh?"

And with that he was gone, flying back up into the sky. Link's heart sank; it took him a moment for him to realize why.

He enjoyed helping other people. It gave him purpose; it brought peace to his heart and distracted him from the gaping holes in his memory and personality. But the Rito hadn't seemed particularly grateful, though Link had certainly saved him from death. And after all that Link had experienced during the past several days, and the pain constantly plaguing his body, sapping his strength, he would have enjoyed a little appreciation. Instead the Rito had taken a good deal of Link's remaining water along with insects that he had gathered while hoping to unlock more of his personality.

But from the little he remembered about the Rito, Guy's arrogance and haughty demeanor had made sense.

Heaving a sigh, he offered Mist several mouthfuls of water from his last waterskin. Then he forced himself back into her saddle, groaning at the sudden flare of pain in his chest and the twinge in his side. Gritting his teeth tightly against the sudden burning of tears in his eyes, he nudged Mist's sides, and they continued towards the Bazaar.

It wasn't long after that that he stopped sweating; this puzzled him, for the air still felt too hot to be allowed. He didn't think too much about the strange development, as he had begun to feel horribly nauseous and his head was pounding; it felt as if his skull had been struck by a moblin's club and caved in. He still had not gotten accustomed to the stabbing pain in his lungs from his broken ribs; when involuntary coughs roughly shook his chest, blood splattered from his dry mouth. The pain from his other wounds remained, pulsing with agony in time to the pounding in his head.

Time droned on and on. The air thickened as the temperature increased and the sun inched higher and higher; Link's vision blurred and his mind wavered. He couldn't see straight. Couldn't think straight. _I'm thirsty. So thirsty. But the water has horse spit. Can't have it now._

With great effort he raised his eyes to the horizon. _Looks like there's a great big lake in the distance… plenty of water there. Oh, look! There's a little bird in the sand…_ It was hot out. He felt as if he were being burned alive. _But without the flames,_ he thought woozily, swaying slightly. _Sun's too bright… can't breathe… should take my clothes off; it'll be cooler…_

The sun crept higher. He plucked at his sleeve and tried to wiggle his arm out of it, but pain pierced the limb and he yelped in surprise. _Oh, yeah. I broke that arm._

He shook his head, trying to clear it, but that only made his muddled thoughts grow even more murky. Directly above him now, the sun seemed to be pushing down on him, forcing his shoulders to slump and his head to droop and his eyelids to fall…

The world tilted drastically around him; up was down and in-between. For a moment he was floating; then he was still, sand pressing against his side. Darkness rushed up around him; he felt as if he were falling, falling, falling forever…

* * *

Khana's heart lurched as the hero tumbled from the saddle and landed in the sand, unmoving. His horse gave a slight jump, whickering in surprise and sidestepping away, ears laid back against her skull.

Khana waited. And waited. The hero did not move. _If I kill him now, he won't feel anything. I'll be putting him out of his misery, as it were, and Master Khoga will thank me._

 _But the kingdom will perish._

The hero still hadn't moved. His horse was nudging him with her nose, but he didn't seem to react in the slightest.

Khana's heart pounded faster and faster. Everything Master Khoga had said about the hero was false. The Yiga Clan was nothing more than a bloodthirsty, vengeful group of renegades unwilling to release a grudge that had spanned the length of a century.

 _We would be willing to destroy the world to have our revenge,_ she realized with bone-numbing horror. _I've been on the wrong side all along._

She sucked in a deep breath and straightened, heart hammering with anticipation, and pulled off her Yiga mask, letting her long dark hair flow free. She swallowed tightly, trying to push down the thick lump in her throat, and marched down the sand towards the hero before she could lose her nerve.

Her nose crinkled as she neared, catching the putrid, sickly odor of rotting flesh. There was a sinking feeling in her soul as she realized the implications of such a scent—at least one of his wounds was infected.

Khana knelt at the hero's side. She could hear his breaths—strained, shallow rasps that gurgled faintly as a result of the blood no doubt pooling in his lungs. She gazed upon his countenance and gently traced a finger along the smooth planes of his face—angular jawline, straight nose, stern brow, chapped lips—trying to convince herself that this was actually happening, that he was real, that she was beside him.

 _Focus. He needs help, or he won't last the day._

She looked up at his horse, who was watching her with concern and rapt attention. "I'm trying to help," she assured the animal, before bending to examine the hero once again. _Alright. He's dehydrated, probably suffering from heatstroke; he's bleeding, and he has several broken bones…_

 _This is bad._

The hero's skin was flushed, overheated, and strangely dry. His rapid pulse, much too fast, hammered at his neck; his eyelids flickered feverishly, revealing slivers of the pure blue irises beneath.

 _What to do… what to do…_

She looked around and spotted the Kara Kara Bazaar in the distance. _We have to run for it. He doesn't have much time._

With a grunt of exertion she lifted him in her arms, staggering as she struggled to heave his weight—dense muscle, thick clothing, and a sword—onto his horse's back. A choked sob escaped his parched lips as she did so and she winced, jumping up behind him and curling one arm around him, drawing from him a second strained cry.

"Hiyah!" She squeezed the horse's sides and pressed the animal into a gallop, sending the three of them flying across the desert. _Not bad for a horse that spent the past two days in the desert,_ she thought with surprise. _Perhaps she knows that her master is dying._

The desert sun glared down. Sweat broke out upon her brow, but the Yiga armor beneath her clothes protected her from the worst of the heat. _And we made it using material stolen from the Gerudo,_ she remembered with a grimace. _The Yiga Clan… nothing more than a thieving group of bandits._

Link had begun to shiver in her arms. For a moment she thought he was trembling from pain, but then she once again caught a whiff of rotting flesh and remembered the infection devouring his wounds. He was shivering from sickness.

Khana ground her teeth together. _I hold the fate of the kingdom in my arms,_ she thought grimly. _And he's dying._

Over the horse's low, rhythmic pants and the soft plodding of her hooves sinking in the sand, Khana became aware of other sounds as well—low grumbles and feeble moans emitted from the hero's lips. But he remained otherwise unresponsive, slumped over on his horse's neck.

As mid-afternoon neared, the hero's horse (Khana was beginning to think of her as 'Barka,' a title that signified strength and endurance) slowed to a stop, flanks heaving from exertion, head hanging low. _The heat is too much._ Khana bit her lip anxiously. She dismounted and turned to dig around in the hero's satchel until she found what she was searching for—his remaining waterskin, a little over halfway full. Without hesitating she pulled the mouth wide and offered the contents to Barka, who eagerly lapped up most of the remaining moisture within. Khana let her drink her fill; once they reached the Bazaar there would be more than enough water for all three of them.

She allowed the little mare five minutes of rest before climbing once more onto her back. No sooner had she done so than Barka lunged forward into a steady canter, plunging down the steeply-sloping dunes towards the cluster of trees and buildings in the distance, kicking up clouds of dust beneath her hooves.

"Good girl," Khana muttered, holding tight to Link's side and trying to ignore the wet blood seeping onto her arm, hot desert wind blowing her hair back.

After an hour more Barka slowed to a swift trot, but she was able to maintain that pace for the remainder of the afternoon without ceasing to rest. Khana was certain by then that the little mare knew of the hero's fading life and cared about him enough to press onward despite the exhaustion plaguing her, evident in the weary droop of her head.

The sun began slumping beneath the horizon and they reached the Kara Kara Bazaar at last, but by then, Link's face had drained of color; he no longer shivered or groaned unconsciously. If not for the pulse fluttering haphazardly in his neck and the hoarse rasps of his shallow breaths, she would have assumed him to be dead.

She looked around anxiously. The Bazaar was not particularly crowded, but she had not interacted with anyone outside of the Yiga Clan since… she couldn't even remember when. Sudden alarming fear gripped her heart; her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth and she wanted nothing more than to shrink away, into the shadows. Inhaling deeply, she dismounted. _You can do this. You can do this. The hero depends on you!_

"I do say," a familiar voice gasped, and Khana turned to see the Rito man Link had rescued walking towards them. "Isn't that the little fellow who helped me out?"

Khana's voice returned to her. "Yes! Yes, he is!" She looked around; people were beginning to notice Barka (it wasn't often that a horse made it so far into the desert) and the wounded young man she bore. "Someone help him!" Khana shouted, not knowing what else to do—she'd never been to the Bazaar and had no idea where to look for assistance. "Please! He's dying!"

A burly Goron trudged up to her, raising his massive stony hands calmingly. "Slow down, miss; what happened?"

Khana clenched her teeth, glancing at the hero's still face. _So many things that he didn't deserve._ "There's no time to explain— _please._ You have to help him!"

The Goron looked towards Link for the first time and gasped. "Nayru's love—course I will!" he agreed readily, lifting the beaten hero in his arms. "We gotta get this kid to the inn—follow me! This way!"

Puffing slightly, he began jogging around the edge of the small pond in the center of the oasis towards the building on the other side; a massive boulder perched precariously on its roof, and Khana wondered briefly how it had gotten there before hurrying after the Goron. Barka followed of her own volition, trotting after them despite the weariness dulling her eyes. The few people basking in the fading sun, lying on smooth stones and in the shade of swaying palms, turned to stare; murmurs and gasps of shock and cries of concern haunted the air as they saw the nearly-dead boy in the Goron's arms. "Sweet Farore—they've got a wounded child!" "Let them through!" "Someone find Kachoo!"

It was a small oasis; moments later Khana dashed ahead to hold the door open for the Goron, who stepped inside and called out, "Anyone here a physician? A healer? Kachoo, can you…?"

The innkeeper, a middle-aged Gerudo woman, looked up in surprise. Her features went slack. "This way," she said, moving out from behind her table and gesturing to a bed in the corner, lying close to the ground beside a burning oil lamp. Turning to her patrons, she called out, "I'm afraid we have a slight emergency on our hands; I ask you all to move to the upstairs quarters and grant this boy some privacy."

Casting anxious, curious glances towards the limp figure in Goron's arms, the little gaggle of Hylians and Gerudo alike filed out of the inn's large main room, heading upstairs.

Khana leaned closer to the Goron. "Is her name really…?"

The Goron smiled tightly. "Kachoo? Sure is. And I'm Lyndae." He tromped closer to the bed and gently set Link down before turning to gather the other lamps stationed around the room, setting them down close to the fallen hero.

The Gerudo, Kachoo, scrubbed her hands in a basin of water and opened a cupboard, grabbing a roll of bandages, a flask of alcohol, and a bundle of herbs. "Hold these," she ordered brusquely, shoving the materials into Khana's arms before kneeling at Link's side. Then she began unwinding the blood-soaked bandage around Link's abdomen, and the terrible smell of the wound worsened, filling the air. But Kachoo didn't seem to notice; she moved on to the hero's arm, unwinding the sling and slowly moving the broken limb to rest at the hero's side, ignoring the boy's weak gasps of pain.

"Can we give him anything?" Khana asked tentatively. "Something to… to make it hurt less…?"

Kachoo hesitated, tilting her head to the side in contemplation. "It would take time to prepare—time that we do not have."

The bandages removed, the Gerudo withdrew a knife from a sheathe at her side and, starting at Link's collar, began to slice off his tunic. A blush warmed Khana's cheeks; from the first cut she could see that the young man's torso was solid and muscular and lightly tanned. But self-conscious fawning swiftly turned to numbing shock when the rest of his tunic began to be stripped away by Kachoo's knife, revealing a myriad of old white scars slashing across Link's chest, some curling around to his back—remnants of a long-ago battle. _It's no wonder that he was sent to the Shrine of Resurrection,_ Khana thought with a shudder.

There were other, more recent scars as well, including a strange, flowering pink burn stretching over his shoulder and some of his chest; it seemed to be at least a week old, beginning to fade away. A chill jolted Khana's spine at the thought of what might have caused it.

And then there were his more recent wounds—bruised violet nubs rising from his chest, one of them having broken bloodily through his skin; a narrow cut on his burned shoulder, narrow and dark and infected but no longer bleeding; and the puffy red slit in his side, oozing angry dark blood and greenish pus. As Kachoo carefully stripped away his sleeves, his broken arm was revealed, crooked and swollen, shining unnatural shades of red, black, and blue in the flickering lamplight.

Kachoo left the hero's side to scour her hands clean once again and Khana gathered the warm shreds of the boy's tunic and bandages, pulling them from the bed and lying them aside. She didn't know what to do; she certainly didn't know how to help, but she hated just sitting there doing nothing but observe as Link lay unconscious, pale and unmoving, devastating wounds across his body.

"Are there any other injuries?" Kachoo asked solemnly, returning to the young man's side holding a porcelain basin of water with steam rising from its surface.

Khana closed her eyes. _At last_ — _my days spent stalking him can be put to good use._ She thought back over the past several days, trying to remember if she'd ever seen him limping, or if she'd ever noticed blood on his back or legs… "Not that I've seen," she answered tentatively. "But… he's severely dehydrated…"

"And suffering from heatstroke," Kachoo concluded, resting the back of her hand over Link's brow. "That explains why he isn't sweating despite the level of infection in this wound…" She nodded curtly and turned to Lyndae. "You will have to hold him down," she warned, and the Goron gulped, kneeling at the hero's side. Kachoo pulled a thick wooden dowel wrapped in cloth from the roll of bandages and offered it to Khana. "Hold this between his teeth; we don't want him to hurt himself further."

Khana nodded anxiously, moving behind Link's head and gently placing the wooden rod between his jaws.

Kachoo dipped a cloth into the basin of boiling water, wringing the excess moisture from it before gently dabbing at the wound splitting Link's side. The boy hissed in pain, his shallow breaths shortening further as he jerked unconsciously, and Lyndae held him down with a single rocky hand.

"Poor kid," he murmured gravely, his wide features downcast.

Once the wound had been cleaned of the slowly-flowing blood and pus, Kachoo soaked a second cloth in alcohol and pressed it to the raw, open flesh; this time Link screamed, throwing his head back and convulsing in agony, teeth biting down fiercely on the wooden dowel.

"Keep him still," Khana ordered, and with his other massive hand Lyndae pinned Link's legs down as well, effectively stifling his frantic movements; weak cries continued to escape the hero's lips and Khana grit her teeth, averting her gaze from Kachoo's work. It seemed like an age had passed before Kachoo had at last deemed the wound clean enough to be stitched up, and then Link's whimpers of agony nearly broke Khana's heart. _He shouldn't have to endure this… no one so… so_ good _should ever have to face this pain,_ she thought miserably.

Once the massive wound had been tightly bandaged, the Gerudo pricked open the slice on the hero's shoulder with a clean knife, cleaning it as well before sewing it closed and wrapping it in cloth. It was then that she moved on to his broken arm. Link began to struggle once again as she began setting the shattered bones; his features twisted violently in a grimace of unspeakable pain.

"What on Farore's green earth happened to him?" Lyndae asked, looking crestfallen. "No kid should have to face the world like this…"

Khan hesitated to respond, not knowing if Link's mission was meant to be a secret or not. "He… he has a big heart," she tried to explain. "He received most of these wounds defending a woman from moblins. From what I've seen of him, he puts all thought of his own well-being aside the instant he sees someone in trouble."

"Have you known him long?" Kachoo asked, grimacing as she popped a bone back into its rightful place, drawing a feeble cry from the hero's parched lips.

"No—only a few days," Khana admitted. "And… he doesn't know me. I only joined him after he fell off of his horse, unconscious. I was travelling behind him before that, heading to Gerudo City to buy jewelry for my mother." The lie came naturally, as a result of her Yiga training, and she instantly despised herself for the deception. _But I can't just tell them I'm part of a rebel cult trying to end the world, can I?_ "My name is Khana," she added quickly when she remembered that she had not yet introduced herself.

Lyndae was looking at her incredulously. "You didn't try to help him with the moblins? Those things are _vicious!"_

Khana thought quickly. "I don't really know how to fight," she fibbed. "From where I stood, it seemed like he knew what he was doing. I thought I'd only get in the way."

For a moment Lyndae seemed to be on the verge of explosion; then he sighed heavily and his features calmed. "Can't fault you for that—I probably would have done the same thing, if it was me." His broad shoulders slumped. "I think the only reason I was able to travel this far is because my skin's literally made of rock. It's not fair—if this little guy'd had skin that tough, he would've been fine. Poor kid."

All three of them winced as Kachoo set another of the hero's battered bones with a disgusting pop, and Link groaned faintly.

Khana bit her lip anxiously; his cries were growing feebler and his breaths shallower. "Is it just me, or is he getting weaker?"

Kachoo nodded grimly, beginning to wrap the hero's arm snugly in bandages. "He is. But I'm almost done."

When she set the young man's crushed ribs, moving the one that had pierced through his skin back into place, Link jerked violently, releasing a short, breathless cry of anguish. Kachoo pursed her lips. "Lift him up, please," she said to Lyndae, and the Goron obliged, placing a hand on the hero's back and gently lifting him into a sitting position. Carefully the Gerudo wrapped his ribs, though not quite as tightly as she had his arm, before letting him rest back on the bed once again. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she leaned back on her knees, turning to look at Khana. "Would you take the basin and fill it with cold water from outside? Just dump the old water in the sand."

Khana nodded, eager to be of some use, and lifted the basin filled with pink-tinged water, carrying it through the inn's main room outside in the cold desert night, walking down towards the little pool in the center of the oasis. When she returned to the inn, she passed Lyndae on his way out. "You're leaving?" she asked in surprise.

The Goron nodded sadly. "I might as well hit the sack—there's not much more I can do here now," he explained. "Best of luck, kiddo. I'll be back here in the morning to see if there's anything else that needs to be done."

Khana dipped her head in understanding. "Thank you," she murmured, and Lyndae shrugged bashfully before continuing out of the inn, holding the door open for her as she walked inside, heading back to the bed where Link lay unconscious, now stripped to his underwear.

Kachoo straightened as she approached, taking the basin and gently setting it down at the hero's side. "I've done everything I can," she admitted sadly, moving to a nearby cupboard and withdrawing a towel. "His body temperature is still dangerously high, and he's not sweating, which means he must be severely dehydrated. But he's still unconscious, which means we can't give him water—he might choke. The only thing left is to keep his body cool." She pushed the towel under the water and pulled it out, squeezing some of the excess moisture away before draping it over the hero's bare legs. Then she held a second cloth, a smaller one, out to Khana. "Regretfully, I do have an inn to run… I have to see to my patrons now. But we need to cool him down."

"I'll do it," Khana agreed readily, accepting the cloth, and Kachoo left, heading towards the stairs, leaving the Yiga assassin alone with the boy she had sworn to kill. A rebellious thought entered her mind— _Kill him now, when no one is watching, and flee. It would be a kindness to him; you've seen the pain he's experiencing._

Indeed the poor Hylian youth's shallow breaths rasped, as if the mere act of breathing caused him great pain(which, in all honesty, it likely did), and his features were tightly coiled, his brow creased, in a grimace of intense anguish even in unconsciousness. Ending it all would be merciful.

But, Khana reminded herself, the fate of the kingdom rested on his shoulders. If he died, everyone else died as well. Suddenly she feared that the Sheikah and Hylians that had placed the boy in the Shrine of Resurrection, no doubt gravely wounded, if not already dead, had not done so out of any level of concern for him as a person. They had forced him back to life to save their own skins. _Yes… to save the greater good of the world. But it still seems horribly unfair_ — _no one should deserve such a fate. Especially one so young._ She was barely older than him, it seemed, and she couldn't imagine bearing such a burden.

And on top of that, there were rumors that the hero had lost his memories during his century spent recovering. _To awaken all alone, with no memory of how he obtained the ghastly scars upon his body or who he was or_ anything… _and then to be told that the fate of the world rested in his hands…_

He, more than anyone else Khana knew of, deserved peaceful rest. But it was not her place to give him that. _He's wounded severely enough that he very well could die if he loses the will to live,_ she thought. _I will leave that up to him. If he lives through this, then he is every bit the hero they think he is, if not more. And if he dies of his wounds…_

Khana shuddered. Though she hated to be just like those who had sent him to the Shrine in the first place, putting the needs of the kingdom above the needs of a lost, broken boy, she couldn't deny that Hyrule desperately needed its hero.

She grit her teeth in determination. _It's about time someone tried to help him shoulder this burden,_ she thought, brushing a hand over his chest and grimacing—his skin was dry and much too warm. Quickly she dipped her cloth into the basin and began soaking every inch of his exposed skin in the icy water. _I will nurse you back to health, and then I will go where you go, standing by your side every step of the way. You will never be alone again._

Her soul burning with steely resolve, she reached across his limp body and held his good hand in hers, gently giving it a squeeze. "Together," she murmured, "we will defeat Calamity Ganon. _Together."_


	6. Chapter 6

**6\. Awake**

" _Link…"_

It was the voice again—the one that had first called him from slumber in the Shrine of Resurrection; the voice that was almost recognizable; the voice that had urged him to save Hyrule.

" _Open your eyes…"_

 _I'm trying._ But he was lost; he was trapped in murky darkness, broken up here and there every once in a while by flashes of unfamiliar faces and objects—an oil lamp, a stern Gerudo with turquoise lips, an anxious Goron, a yellow stone ceiling… and, more often than any of the others, a young woman with large violet eyes and dark brown hair. She was there every time he floated groggily into painful half-consciousness; she was there with blessedly cold water that she poured down his throat, soothing the unbearable rough dryness in his mouth.

Wavering, he drifted from darkness to darkness, from wakeful pain to unconscious numbness, in between and in and out of time.

" _Wake up, Link…"_

It was beginning to feel all too familiar—the pain, the voice, the uncanny sensation of drifting…

Fear coursed through him. _Did I sleep another hundred years?_

With a gasp he wrenched his eyes open, heart hammering frantically inside. He looked around—oil lamp, yellow ceiling… and the face of the dark-haired girl, eyes staring at him with terror and relief.

The pain swiftly set in—a pounding in his skull, an ache in his ribs, burning soreness in his side, smoldering fire in his arm. Link frowned, concentrating hard, trying to regain his memories… _My gut was ripped open… my arm was shattered… my ribs were broken… I should be in a lot more pain._

He was glad that he wasn't. He could remember the raw agony of the infected wound in his side and the sharp shards of sheer pain stabbing through his shattered arm with each and every movement. The pain he felt now could never compare to what he had felt then. But confusion rent his mind— _How long have I been unconscious?_

"Y-you must be thirsty," the girl said softly, offering him a small clay cup filled with water. Link drank it eagerly, gratefully licking his cracked, dry lips when it was empty.

"Thanks," he croaked, wincing at the sound of his voice grating against his dry throat. A cough rattled his lungs, and he grimaced again at the resulting burst of pain in his ribs.

"Don't talk," the girl advised, her voice still quiet and hesitant, as if she weren't sure she should be speaking. Link nodded slowly, closing his eyes wearily.

"Are you hungry?"

He looked up at her. "Yeah," he murmured, acknowledging the gnawing hunger pangs in his stomach.

Gently the girl spooned cold stew into his mouth, but he had difficulty swallowing, so she gave him a second glass of water, and then another. Link hadn't known that it was possible to be so thirsty.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice still weak and hoarse. He looked around, at the ceiling and the lamp and the girl, and the window at his side giving him a glimpse of the oasis outside, and suddenly he realized that he had no memory of the place. Fear took hold of his heart.

Waking up in an unfamiliar place… a half-remembered voice, urging him to awaken, to open his eyes… wounds across his body, partially healed, and no memory of how they had been inflicted… this was all too familiar, and not in a good way. _Did I sleep another century?!_ Panic began to set in. "How long was I out?" he demanded, his rough voice squeaking from disuse. "Wh-what happened? How did I get here?"

The girl looked slightly taken aback. "C-calm down—I can explain—"

Link looked at her desperately, willing her to understand as his heartbeat skyrocketed to new speeds. "Please…" he whispered, rebellious tears burning in his eyes. "I… I don't know who I am, and… I don't want to forget anymore. Please… please don't let me fall asleep again…"

Something flickered in her expression—anger? He felt her fingers curl around his hand; startled by the contact, he forced himself not to flinch—the gentle touch was more than welcome; it made him feel less alone than he'd ever felt since waking from the Shrine of Resurrection.

"You were unconscious for a week," she told him softly. "You… you screamed when we first treated your wounds, but after that… nothing. We thought… you were going to die.

"Last week you responded a little more. You were sort of… _half-_ conscious, as if you were right on the verge of waking up but couldn't quite manage it. We were able to start giving you water then, and herbs, and a little bit of food. That gave us hope. And now… here you are." She offered him a thin smile. "So… two weeks. That was all."

Link inhaled as deeply as his bruised ribs would allow. "Good," he croaked. "Thank you."

The girl's smile faded. "You don't remember how you were injured?"

The panic began to return as he tried to think back. Heat… and pain… Before that? "Moblins," he muttered. _They did this. They hurt me._ He nodded slowly. But he couldn't remember much more than that. He swallowed tightly, closing his eyes in concentration. _Have to explain… have to remember… who am I?_

His mouth went dry. _I'm Link. I am Link. I… I fight for Hyrule… against… Calamity Ganon. I… I… I… I like horses…_

 _Mist!_

His eyes snapped open. "Mist!" he cried out painfully. "Mist—is she alright? Is she here?"

"Who's Mist?"

"My horse… my horse…" His breaths were rapid and shallow; his ribs burned and his side ached and his arm throbbed… his vision swam and he feared that he would lose himself to the merciless darkness of unconsciousness once again, but the girl's grip on his hand anchored him to reality. And then her fingers traced a delicate line down the side of his face, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"She's fine," the girl soothed him. "There's plenty of grass for her to eat around the pond, and plenty of water to drink. She never wanders far during the day, and we've set up a shelter for her at night. You'll be pleased to learn that we found her an actual saddle and bridle—I hope that'll make travelling more comfortable for you."

Link nodded slowly, the panic within him retreating at the sound of her calm voice. "Thank you."

The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears and the wide features of a Goron entered his field of vision. "You're awake!" the rock-man bellowed in relief. "Oh, blessed Nayru and merciful Din! How d'you feel, little guy?"

Link couldn't help but smile at the Goron's enthusiasm. "Better," he croaked, and it was certainly true, despite the pain and fatigue pulsing through him.

"Lyndae carried you to the inn," the girl explained. "And he's been here tending you as well—"

The Goron laughed and waved her aside. "I didn't do anything, really. It's Khana here that saved you, no doubt about that. She brought you to the oasis in the first place; rescued you from the desert. She's the reason you're alive."

Link's eyes widened and he looked at the girl in astonishment. She ducked her head, blushing, and would not meet his gaze. "I… from a distance, of course, I saw how you helped others," she admitted. "After everything you'd done, I… I couldn't leave you to die."

Link squeezed her hand gently; as weak as he was, it was barely more than a feeble twitch of his fingers. "You saved me." Gratitude warmed his heart, but it was swiftly followed by a grim sense of responsibility. He had a mission, and he could not rest until it was done. Until Calamity Ganon was no more than the fading wisps of a bad dream, and Hyrule returned to peace. A heavy sigh rattled his lungs. "I can't express how grateful I am for your kindness—both of you. But… there are things I need to do. I… I can't stay here."

Khana nodded slowly. "I understand. But you're not leaving until Kachoo says you're strong enough."

Link nodded reluctantly, then did a double-take. "Kachoo?"

"The Gerudo that owns this place," Lyndae explained with a chuckle. "And she's a lot more serious than her name implies, heh!"

Link smiled. "Wh… where is she now? I'd like to thank her as well…"

"She's busy running her inn," Lyndae said, waving him off. "But she'll be around after sunset to check on you. See that your wounds are healing and such. Got a good head on her shoulders, no doubt about that!" The Goron let out another hearty guffaw; his enthusiasm was contagious, and Link felt his spirits lifting despite the aches and pains still troubling his body.

But contentment swiftly turned to sadness, and a frown twisted his lips as his heart sank.

Khana's violet eyes gazed into his with concern. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Kachoo gave you something to ease the pain; maybe it's wearing off—"

Link shook his head and wished he hadn't when his skull began to throb. "No… it's not that…" He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes briefly to calm his aching head. _Should I tell them? I barely know them… but they saved my life; surely that counts for_ something. He inhaled deeply and sighed. "I… I know it's selfish, and wrong, and cowardly… but I wish I could stay… stay here. Or anywhere, really… Hateno Village would be nice. I feel safe here, and I wish it could last, but I know it won't. It can't. That's it."

Lyndae looked concerned. "Well… whatever you gotta do… it can wait, right? Kids like you shouldn't be all on their own out in this kingdom—it's too dangerous."

"But that's what I need to do!" Link protested with as much fervor as he could muster. "The danger—it doesn't belong; it's not right. People should be able to travel freely, without fear of injury or death at the hands of monsters. It's not right. I think I know how to stop it, and I can't rest until I've done all that I can—it's my responsibility."

"And you have to do it all on your own?" Khana asked softly. "No one can help you?"

Link hesitated, glancing between her face and Lyndae's. _What is wrong with me? I_ never _talk to_ anyone _this much! At least_ — _not since I woke up… What happened?_

But he was spared from having to respond by the approach of a tall Gerudo with dark, stern eyes and short red hair, bending over him. "Good; you're awake."

He blinked slowly. _This must be Kachoo._ She moved out of his field of vision and he heard her bustling around with what sounded like bottles and some sort of liquid. Then he felt a light touch on his hand; looking up she saw that Khana had once again closed her fingers around his. His heart warmed at the gesture.

Kachoo returned with an earthenware cup and held it out to him. "Drink."

Lyndae was quick to help him sit up; his head swam at the movement but the dizziness faded as he drank the contents of the glass. It was water, but it tasted bitter as a result of what must have been pain-numbing herbs.

"Now that you're conscious, we'll be shoving all sorts of things down your throat—mostly water," Kachoo informed him, briskly beginning to unwrap his bandaged shoulder. Link winced, and Khana squeezed his hand gently. A gesture of comfort.

 _And you have to do it all on your own?_ Her words echoed in his mind as he closed his eyes, worn out by even that small interaction.


	7. Chapter 7

**7\. Companions**

Over the days that followed, Link steadily began to heal and regain his strength. Once his reserves of water had been refilled his recovery only expedited, and it wasn't long at all before he was able to walk around with ease, and after that, he filled his days with as much training as he could bear, wielding the simple broadsword he had been carrying ever since Khana had come across him.

It was after one such practice session that Khana found him, wearing the voe armor that had once belonged to Kachoo's ex-husband. Khana couldn't dispel the blush that warmed her cheeks at the sight of him, nearly shirtless and sweaty in the afternoon heat beating down in the shadows cast behind Kachoo's inn. He didn't seem to notice her at first; his eyes were tightly closed as he pressed a hand to his ribs. Khana coughed slightly and he looked up.

"Are you alright?" she asked him, nodding towards the hand still clamped on his chest.

He blushed and moved the hand up to scratch his ear. "I'm, uh, fine," he stammered.

Khana inhaled deeply. She had grown more attracted to him over the past few weeks, fighting to keep him alive and then sharing meals with him every day, getting to know his gentle spirit, coming to look forward to his light-hearted smile and easy laugh. But she pushed those feelings down—she had come for a reason, and she would say what she had to say. "I have to talk to you," she told him solemnly. "And I need you to listen."

He frowned, walking up to her, his vibrant blue eyes glittering like sapphires in the light of the dying day. "Okay." He sounded nervous and uncertain.

Khana inhaled deeply. "I… am a descendant of Sheikah." Her lips twisted. _It's technically true._ "I know that you spent a century in the Shrine of Resurrection and lost your memory. I know of your quest, Link. Your quest to save Hyrule from Calamity Ganon, and I don't think you should have to do that alone; I want to help."

Link's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His features were unreadable; her heart pounded wondering what was going through his mind. _Please trust me,_ she begged inwardly. _Please don't suspect me… please…_

"I can fight," she added, biting her lip in anxious anticipation. "Those stalmoblins that attacked you one night… I killed them."

"That was you?" Link gaped, gratitude breaking across his face. An awed grin curling his lips. "They would have killed me for sure—you saved my life. Again." He smiled. "Thank you."

Khona blushed and looked away, shuffling her feet self-consciously. _I should have helped sooner,_ she thought. _But I hadn't quite come around to you yet, I suppose._

Link's features grew serious once again. "I… I would dearly love to have company, but… I don't want to put anyone in danger—least of all you, after everything you've done for me," he told her, his voice hesitant.

"You're the hero of Hyrule," Khana responded, voicing the thoughts and opinions that had been swimming through her mind for several days now. "You're… seventeen, right? And you've been tasked with saving the _entire kingdom."_ She shook her head, the injustice of it all filling her soul with bitterness. "You protect everyone, but who'll protect you?"

Link didn't meet her eyes, mumbling something that sounded dejectedly like "... shouldn't need protection."

Khana pressed him again. "People won't always happen to be there to save you. You were lucky this time, but what about next time? What if you have to face a lynel or you're caught in a blizzard? On your own… you might die. But with someone else your chances would be a lot better."

He still didn't meet her gaze, reaching with one hand to scratch the lightning scar over his shoulder, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Slowly he nodded, finally raising his eyes to meet hers. "Alright," he decided. "You can come with me. I'm searching for the Thunderhelm to protect me from the lightning storms around Zora's Domain; I've heard that it's with the Gerudo."

Khana forced her features to remain impassive. He would not find the Thunderhelm with the Gerudo, for the Yiga Clan had stolen it. _But I can't tell him that!_ "I… I'll follow you there whenever you're ready to go." She swallowed and forced herself to speak calmly. "But… only women are allowed inside the city."

Link nodded. "I think I heard of a man that managed to sneak in. So there must be a way."

Khana hadn't heard the rumor, but she could guess how that man had gotten inside. And looking at Link, his youthful features and large eyes and slender build, she could see how he, too, could enter the city. "Alright. Here's what we need to do…"

An hour later, standing in the deepening evening shadows behind the inn, their preparations were complete.

"I don't know if I can do this," Link admitted, cheeks flushed with embarrassment behind the blue veil hanging over his mouth and nose.

Khana had bought the clothes from Kachoo, explaining that her Hylian clothes really weren't meant for the desert heat. The innkeeper had several items of Gerudo clothing on hand for her daughter, who had long since gone off on her own and no longer visited the desert as much.

Now Link was wearing one of the outfits, looking extremely uncomfortable in the traditional Gerudo vai attire that left his stomach and shoulders bare and made the rest of him look rather feminine, despite his very masculine chest.

"You'll be fine," Khana assured him. "Just try not to raise your arms, and don't talk, alright? I can do that for you."

"If you say so," the hero muttered.

They set out the following dawn, when it was still cold enough out to merit a cloak. Link wore a very long one, to hide his unorthodox getup from Kachoo and her patrons. After a great deal of heartfelt thanks expressed to the innkeeper and Lyndae, the two of them hopped onto Mist's back and trotted off towards the walls of Gerudo City in the east.

"Back to it, then," Link sighed glumly, reaching down to stroke his little mare's neck. Khana was somewhat surprised by his unhappy tone.

"I thought you liked what you do." The words came out before she could stop them.

"I do!" he insisted, half-turning to glance back at her. "I mean… I like helping people. Thinking about the world I could give them, one almost free of violence and death and pain… it warms my heart. But I hate fighting. If there were a way to solve this peacefully, then… I'd take it. But all anyone's told me since I woke up was that I had to destroy Calamity Ganon, and I don't know if it's possible to do that without fighting. So I suppose this is my fate."

Khana thought about that, lips turned down unhappily. She had always heard stories about the Princess of Hyrule, who had wanted to be a scientist and lacked the motivation to unlock the power of the Great Goddess Hylia within her. But she had never heard about the chosen knight also being forced into a role he hadn't wanted to assume. _Just one of the many lies I was fed,_ she thought grudgingly. "What would you do with your life, if things had been different?"

Link tilted his head to the side. "I—"

And then he went rigid, every muscle going taut and a choked breath escaping his throat.

"Link!" Khana yelped in surprise, leaning forward and tugging Mist's reins to stop her before dismounting to study the hero. He was frozen in place, eyes tightly closed, a vacant expression plastered over his features. "Link? Are you alright? Link!"

But he did not respond. He may as well have turned to stone. But suddenly his eyes flashed open and he gasped, breathing hard.

"What in Din's name was _that?"_ Khana demanded, looking at him anxiously.

His eyes were wide, and his features slack with uncertainty and even fear. "I—I r-remembered something," he stammered, breathing hard. "M-my… father…"

"That's wonderful!" Khana said, forcing a smile to her lips despite the shock still numbing her soul. But Link didn't seem to share her enthusiasm. He buried his head in his hands.

"Are you alright?" Khana asked softly, reaching up to grasp his hand.

He looked at her through weary eyes. "Your words triggered a memory, I think. I don't exactly know why." He inhaled shakily, closing his eyes. "It was raining, and we'd found a cave…"

* * *

 _Thunder rumbled overhead. Link was cold, inside and out; rain soaked him to the skin, and his body trembled in protest._ Get into the cave, _a voice deep inside urged him._ It's warmer there. You deserve a rest.

 _He slashed at an invisible enemy, teeth grit in determination. His feet slid in the muddy grass at the top of the hill._ No. No rest.

 _His thoughts were interrupted by the Princess' gloomy voice. "I doubt this will let up anytime soon," she muttered._

 _Link remained silent, as usual. His duty was to fight, to protect, not to make conversation. He forced himself to imagine the pounding terror of battle, the onslaught of attacks on every side, the very real and frightening possibility of death_ —

 _But the Princess, once again, pulled him back to reality. "Your path seems to mirror your father's. You've dedicated yourself to becoming a knight, as well. Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfill your goal is really quite admirable."_

Shut up! _Link wished he could yell._ This never was _my_ goal! I don't want this! _And she had mentioned his father, too. The man that had laughed at his son's dreams to live a peaceful life in the countryside, perhaps on a ranch. The man that had hired private tutors for his son so that he could spend more time training him in combat, thus removing the three-year-old from any opportunity to find friends his own age. The man that had led his son into a secret chamber within the castle, where the Master Sword slumbered. The man that had placed his son's hands around the dark blue hilt and told him to pull._

" _I see now why you would be the chosen one," the Princess admitted sadly, a hint of regret in her voice._

I would gladly trade places with you, _Link thought, refusing to look back at her lest his feelings be revealed on his face._ You think I wanted this. You think my whole life was spent in pursuit of this moment. Ha!

 _But he could understand how she had reached those conclusions. He never spoke much; he had never really learned how to communicate with others as a result of the private tutoring his father had put him through. Thus, all she had seen of him, all that she knew of him, was that he spent most of his time training, according to his father's will. Of course it would seem to her that he was following in the older man's footsteps._

Why am I the chosen one? _he had wondered more than once._ Why would the sword choose someone who had no desire to wield it?

 _The Princess spoke again, her voice soft and uncertain. "What if… one day… you realized that you just weren't meant to be a fighter."_

 _Link's blood ran cold, and he turned to face her, forcing his features to remain impassive despite the sudden urgent thudding of his heart._

" _Yet the only thing people ever said," the Princess continued, "was that you were born into a family of the royal guard, and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight. If that was the only thing that you were ever told… I wonder, then… would you have chosen a different path?"_

 _Link stared at her. Her words had hit closer to home than she could possibly guess._ I wanted to choose a different path, _he longed to explain. But self-consciousness held his tongue in check. His father had died shortly after Link had drawn the Master Sword, and by then it was too late_ — _Link's fate was irreversibly entwined with the fate of Hyrule and the Royal Family. He had no choice but to go forward as a knight._

 _The Princess let out a frustrated sigh. Link tensed, remembering her previous outbursts. "Why are you so quiet all the time?" she asked. "I… I feel as if I'm speaking to a brick wall. Don't you ever speak?"_

 _Link swallowed tightly. His heart raced, and he debated telling her about the truth of his so-called 'destiny.' But at last he decided against it._ I doubt it would make her feel any better. Not when she's been working as hard as I have, if not more so, to unlock the power within her. And failed. _He cleared his throat._ Now, how do I do this? _He had almost never spoken to anyone before now. His heart pounded anxiously. "Umm… I guess, with everything that's at stake, and with everyone w-watching me… I just have to stay strong, right? I_ — _I can't complain. No matter what I'm dealing with, I have to keep quiet, otherwise people might l-lose hope or something, since I'm… supposed to p-protect them, right?" He gulped nervously. There. He had done it, only stuttering a little._

" _Oh," the Princess murmured. She sounded surprised. She opened her mouth to say something more, and thunder growled ominously, masking her words even as the clarity of the memory began to fade..._

* * *

Khana gazed at him solemnly as he finished the tale.

"I know so much more about myself now," he breathed, his features slack and mournful. "The voice that's been guiding me since I woke up is the Princess's voice. I know that for myself now. I guess… to answer your question, what would I do if this wasn't my fate… I'd go live in the country, somewhere isolated, surrounded by wilderness. Somewhere I can live a simple, peaceful life…"

He looked mournful and lost; his lips curled downwards and his eyes gazed downwards. Once again Khana's heart was filled with hatred, now not only for Hylians in general, but for Link's cruel father, forcing him into a role contrary to his nature, and for the Master Sword and the Royal Family, for forcing him to stay on the path towards knighthood even after his father died. "If the goddesses are any kind of merciful, they'll let you live that life before long," she growled. "Otherwise there is no justice or fairness in life."

"Life's never fair," Link murmured quietly. "I… you'll never believe me, but the ghost of the last King came to me and told me that there were others fighting Calamity Ganon a hundred years ago. They were warriors—Champions—and I'm certain they were more than willing to sacrifice all that they had to save their kin. And they all died."

Khana nodded slowly; she had heard the same information from Master Khoga, though heavily biased. "I believe you. And… if you think about it, their deaths may have been a mercy. Their lives were not forcibly extended far beyond their normal span; they were not dragged back to life to finish the battle all alone."

Link's shoulders slumped. "Well, when you put it that way… I suppose it was better—kinder—for them to die then." He looked at her wearily, his eyes burning with heartache. "I don't expect to live through this, Khana. Calamity Ganon… is too much."

Her own heart ached at the sight of him so depressed. She clenched her teeth. "And that's why I'm going with you—to ensure that you _live,_ and that you can fulfill your dream in this life."

At last he smiled. "I'm indebted to you many times over, Khana."

She reached up and gripped his hand briefly before swinging back up onto Mist's back. "I still have some debts of my own to pay," she admitted softly.

The sun blazed down with gradually increasing force; around mid-morning they paused briefly, giving Mist a rest as they stowed their cloaks away in a saddlebag and drank heavily from the large waterskins Kachoo had given them—"It's my duty," she had said, "to furnish my clients with the necessary supplies to face the desert. Otherwise their deaths are on my hands."

As they continued, Khana locked her arms once again around Link's waist, a blush warming her cheeks at the feel of his now-bared abdomen pressed against her forearms.

They came across a hydromelon plant a little past noon and gratefully ate the golden flesh before continuing on their way across the baking sand. Mist. maintained a swift, steady canter for several hours as the shimmering wall of the city in the distance inched nearer. Khana's grip on Link's stomach became sweaty, and perspiration dampened her brow and underarms as the sun burned down. Beneath her clothes, her Yiga uniform clung to her skin, and she thought of her mask, abandoned in the sand nearly a month ago. _I hope the wind has buried it by now._

The sun at last began to creep towards the horizon, and the weary, saddle-sore travellers dismounted, walking the last few yards to the city on foot.

"Good girl," Link murmured, affectionately rubbing the little mare's long nose.

As soon as they were within earshot, one of the Gerudo guards outside the gate demanded, "Who goes there?"

"I'm—Kara," Khana said, fearing both that her true name might be recognized if there were any Yiga spies in the city and the wrath of the Gerudo if they learned her true identity. "And this is… Liela." Khana winced. _Because everything about 'her' is a lie._ "She's a mute. And that's Mist—she's also a female."

The other guard laughed. "I've never seen a horse way out here before—astounding! I didn't think it was possible!"

"Calm yourself," the first woman sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. "I must warn the two of you that we… have no protocol for horses. I don't know if you'll be able to find a suitable boarding situation for her inside."

"We'll manage," Khana assured them. "Thank you." With a respectful dip of her head, she and Link stepped into the city. A wide market greeted them, with open-air, tent-like stalls and tall palms growing in two neat lines around a raised platform surrounded by a blue-tiled canal. Everywhere Khana looked, women of all the races of Hyrule (and even two male Gorons) were talking, laughing, shopping, calling out their wares, and resting in the shade. Khana's taut shoulders began to loosen in relief. _So many people… and many of them Hylian. I'll be able to blend in here. We_ both _will._

Many of the market-goers turned to study them curiously as they made their way through the crowds, no doubt surprised to see a horse in the city. Link huddled in Mist's shadow, squirming uncomfortably in his Gerudo clothing, walking stiffly with stooped shoulders as if he were trying to hide. Khana winced; he looked painfully suspicious. Gently she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Try to relax," she muttered, hoping that the drone of conversation all around would drown her words. "You look like you have something to hide—someone might try to investigate."

He swallowed audibly and nodded, straightening his posture and allowing his tense shoulders to drop. Khana bit her lip, wondering what the punishment was for those involved in sneaking a man into the city. She led the way through the crowd, craning her neck to search for the crescent-moon symbol of an inn.

All at once there were shrill whistles blown across the city, and Khana tensed, looking around in fear and befuddlement.

"A voe has been detected! Capture him at once!" A tall, imposing guard marched down the steps leading to the palace, pointing angrily at the sky.

Khana looked up, and there was Guy—the arrogant Rito Link had rescued in the desert. An instant later a weighted net was launched through the sky, whirling end over end before wrapping around the bird-man's wings and sending him plummeting to the plaza below. A pair of octo balloons tied to the ropes quickly inflated, slowing his descent so that his collision with the ground was gentle enough to keep him from getting badly injured. Instantly a pair of guards pulled him roughly to his feet and frog-marched him towards the entrance.

"I just wanted to see the city!" Guy howled, struggling furiously. "Just some harmless sight—" He stopped moving, digging his feet into the ground, his narrowed eyes glaring at something just behind Khana.

At Link.

" _You,"_ he hissed, as the Gerudo continued dragging him away. "Wait! You don't understand! That girl— _get your hands off me!"_

"No voe allowed," one of the guards growled, tossing the flustered Rito out on his rear.

As the market-goers began to return to their shopping, Khana turned to Link, who was once again stiff with anxiety, his eyes narrowed with what might have been fear. Khana swallowed tightly. "Are you alright?"

He nodded shakily, grabbed Mist's dangling reins, and led them to the crescent moon symbol of Gerudo City's inn.

"Welcome to Hotel Oasis!" cheered a smiling Gerudo just outside. "Enjoy our standard bed for twenty rupees, or you can get our spa plan for—"

"Thank you," Khana interrupted as politely as she could. "Would you happen to have a place for our horse?"

The woman did a double take, staring at Mist in awe. "Oh, Nayru's love! Umm… we've never housed… _horses…._ Before… I… I honestly don't know what to do!"

Link sucked in a breath as if he were about to speak; then he sighed softly and shook his head. Khana grimaced sympathetically before looking back at the Gerudo. "Is there anything we can do?"

The woman sighed. "I'll check inside, see if my superiors have any ideas," she assured them, bustling into the inn.

Khana met Link's gaze solemnly. "Sorry," she murmured. "I don't know what to do. I don't think they'll let her come inside with us…"

Link nodded, his brow creased with concern as he reached up to stroke Mist's creamy white mane. He still looked obviously uncomfortable in his own skin, but hopefully people would just assume he—or rather, _she_ —was extremely shy.

Khana felt a gentle tugging on the hem of her tunic and she looked down to see a smiling little Gerudo girl looking up at her. "You wanna place for your horsey?" she squeaked out.

Khana glanced at Link, who shrugged. "Erm… yes, please," she said to the child.

"Follow me!" the girl said, turning back to head through the crowds. Khana pushed after her, followed closely by Link and his ever-loyal horse. "I'm Dalia," the little child called back over her shoulder. "I wanna grow some pretty flowers, and they're gonna be the bestest in the world!" She led them down an alley, away from the noisy market square, between walls of pale sandstone. "And—and I read somewhere that horsey poo is _great_ for flowers! So your pony can just stay in my garden as long as she wants, and it'll be _great!"_

They came to the edge of the city; in a small corner the cobblestones had been pulled up, and in their place, instead of sand, was soft, dark soil. Dalia beamed at them. "Whadda you think?"

Khana decided not to point out the obvious lack of flowers; instead she turned to Link, who shrugged and nodded as he mimed the action of building something.

"This'll be just fine, Dalia," Khana smiled at the little girl. "Thank you."

"Just make sure she makes a _lot_ of horsey poo, okay?" Dalia sang, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

Link let the little girl help them as they brushed the dust from Mist's back and picked loose stones from her hooves, guiding her much smaller hands in his large, calloused ones. Khana's heart warmed at the sight, and she marvelled that the Goddesses would choose someone with such a gentle heart to fight for them. A twinge of sadness tapped her heart at the thought, and she frowned.

At last they tethered the little mare to an old ring in the wall to keep her from wandering too far, and after they had set out food and water for her in buckets and draped Link's cloak over her back, they made their way back to the market square, heavily laden with the supplies Mist had been carrying. They escorted Dalia back to her mother before returning to the Hotel Oasis and reserving two beds in the deepest corner, as far from the other patrons as possible.

"You're quite muscular for a Hylian vai," the innkeeper noted, impressed. "I know some rather… _insecure_ young vai that would love to know your secret for building muscle."

Link blushed furiously under his veil, once again stooping his shoulders as if he wanted to hide.

"That would be great, but L… Liela here can't speak," Khana explained. "We'll all just have to keep guessing at her… secret."

"A pity," the older woman sighed, motioning them to the back of the inn so that she could see to her next customers.

"How long do we have to stay here?" Khana whispered as they headed to their beds. "I don't know how long we can keep up this disguise… you just stand out too much."

"I'm not trying to," Link muttered back, his voice barely audible. He sat down and kicked off his shoes, rubbing his feet. "These clearly weren't meant for travelling…"

Khana winced at the sight of the blisters on his skin. "How long?" she pressed him.

"I dunno. We'll try to get an audience with their Chief tomorrow; if all goes well we'll get the Thunderhelm and be on our way."

Guilt squeezed Khana's soul. They were wasting their time, and she was making him put up with all of _this_ for nothing. _Some friend. I'll have to make it up to him somehow._ "We probably shouldn't talk too much. Someone might… get suspicious."

He nodded glumly, his eyes expressing his unhappiness, and ducked into his bed, pulling the blankets up to his head and facing the wall. Khana studied him for a moment longer, wishing that she had the courage to tell him the truth.


	8. Chapter 8

**8\. Lady Riju's Hold**

Link could barely sleep. The Gerudo clothing was tight in all the wrong places, and the fear that he would soon be discovered gripped his soul, forcing him to toss and turn restlessly as the icy moon inched higher outside.

It was when the pale tinge of dawn began to lighten the horizon that he finally drifted off to sleep.

And he dreamed.

Shapes flitted before him, shapes of those he had glimpsed in memory—the tall, golden-haired man that had encouraged him when he felt his task was impossible, whom he now guessed was his father… the Princess, caught in a moment of curiosity and uncharacteristic vulnerability, her green eyes shadowed in the darkness of the cave…

There were other figures as well, just barely discernible… King Rhoam, a bearded knight, two Sheikah sisters walking together, a sneering Rito a grinning Goron, a blushing Zora, and someone else—someone tall. They were beckoning to him from where they stood in shadow, and he couldn't quite see them..

" _Link… open your eyes…"_

Terror coursed through him at the phrase and he felt as though he were drowning, lost in an ocean of emptiness. _No!_ he thought, panicked, thrashing violently.

" _You have been asleep for the past one hundred years…"_

 _No! Not again!_ Fear seized his limbs in petrifying agony. _No!_

He awakened with a sharp cry vibrating in his throat, only to find that someone's hands were clamped over his jaws and he couldn't speak, couldn't breathe.

" _Stop!_ It's _me!"_

At the sound of Khana's voice his eyes flew open and he blinked against the morning light streaming through the window. Self-consciously he looked around, grateful to find that few of the inn's beds were still occupied, and no one seemed to have noticed his… whatever that had been.

"Are you alright?" Khana asked softly, her dark brows drawn together in concern. "A minute or so ago you started groaning, so I tried to get you to wake up…"

Link ground his teeth together, angry with himself for nearly betraying himself. He swallowed tightly, his heart still hammering in his chest in the aftermath of the nightmare. It had been triggered by the flashback he'd triggered the day before, he was certain—but he frowned; he hadn't had nightmares the night he'd remembered that first bit about his father… _But it wasn't as long of a memory. Maybe that's why._

For the briefest moment he considered the fact that he might have slept better if he hadn't remembered anything at all, but he jerked his head slightly to the side, inwardly shaking his head. _If this is to be the price of knowledge, then I will pay it,_ he decided. He looked at Khana. "Let's get this over with," he murmured.

Khana nodded, reaching out and gently squeezing his hand, offering him a silent, reassuring pledge of comfort. Link glanced at her hand in his, feeling his heart pound faster at the touch. The desire to hold her in an embrace tugged at his heart; he longed for the feeling of simple human comfort that such a gesture would offer… but he resisted, letting go, getting to his feet. _Not here. Not now. Another time, perhaps…_

He slid out of bed and slipped his feet back into the too-small, too-thin shoes he'd worn the day before, wincing as the blisters he'd gained then rubbed painfully against the silken lining.

They left the inn; Link dug a red rupee he'd found under a rock out of his wallet and handed it to the innkeeper, dearly hoping that he wouldn't have to return that night. After a quick meal purchased from one of the market stalls they went to Mist's corner and found Dalia, along with a gaggle of other young girls, gently brushing the little mare's coat and braiding flowers into her mane and tail. Link's heart warmed at the sight, and he smiled. Mist was kneeling down, munching calmly on grain; she whickered a greeting as the two of them neared.

Dalia turned to face them, beaming from ear to ear. "Can we stay? Can we stay? _Please?"_

One of the other girls looked up from the bouquet of flowers she was holding. "Your pony's a _real_ vai now!"

Sudden cold fear gripped his heart— _A_ real _vai? Does she know?!_ He grit his teeth. No. He was being stupid; she was only a child. _It's a good disguise. I'm safe._

Khan a glanced at him, and he nodded reassuringly. _I'm alright._

She turned to the girls and smiled. "Of course you can stay; it looks like Barka—er, _Mist_ —loves you guys."

The children all cheered; one of them bent down and wrapped her arms around Mist's neck; the little mare nuzzled her affectionately.

 _That's not exactly what I meant,_ he thought, rubbing the back of his neck. _But it doesn't matter; I'd have let them stay anyway._

The two of them left the shaded corner and reentered the bustling market square, hailed by the murmuring hum of conversation and the abrasive, over-enthusiastic calls of merchants declaring their wares. Already the large area was almost as full as it had been the previous evening; clearly the city was a favorite shopping and vacationing spot, despite the dangers of monsters, the Divine Beast, and the desert heat. Link and Khana meandered between market-goers to the grand sandstone steps leading up to the open-aired palace, carved out of a massive rock formation in the center of the town. A pair of guards stood just outside, eyes stern and narrow behind the visors of their helmets.

"What is your business with Lady Riju?" one of them wanted to know, her tone professional and strict, but not unfriendly. Link shrank back behind Khana, trying to dispel the tension squirming in his innards. He swallowed thickly.

"We need to speak with her urgently," Khana began, glancing at Link for a nod of confirmation. "It's a matter of life and death."

Link bit his lip, thinking with sorrow of the Zora, trapped in thunderstorms. And of Kish and Breen, who would be washed away along with half the kingdom if Vah Ruta was not calmed, and soon. _I've taken too long already._

"Not just _anyone_ can speak with her," the other guard warned. "What is this matter of life and death?"

"It's about Divine Beast Vah Naboris," Khana said quickly. "We think we can stop it."

Link stared at her. He'd told her that his quest was to borrow the Thunderhelm to get to Zora's Domain. Though technically what she said was true, it was misleading. It was a _lie._

She glanced back at him and shrugged. His heart sank. So she knew she was being dishonest.

The two guards glanced at each other, and the one that had spoken first gestured through the archway leading into the palace. "Then you may enter."

Link and Khana followed her gesture into a spacious, open-aired throne room shaded from the sun by the rock structure overhead. Flickering glass lamps lit the darkened space, resting on short altars, and spiny desert plants grew in pots upon even smaller alters; tall pillars of sandstone lined with turquoise tiles sprouted from floor to ceiling, giving the hall an almost cave-like feel. Statues of Gerudo warriors glared down at the two travelers, and pools of water and little waterfalls filled the room with light, burbling music.

Near the center of the back of the hall, at the top of several carpeted steps leading to a raised dais, there was a high-backed, cushioned throne that suited the tall Gerudo folk, although she who sat upon it was only half the height of the burly warrioress at her side. She could be no older than fourteen, Link thought, and yet she sat upon the throne of a chieftess, and upon her head perched an elaborate headdress made of gold.

When Link and Khana first entered, the girl had been in deep conversation with the guard at her side, but as they drew nearer she straightened and regarded them with narrow emerald eyes. "Yet another group of travelers," she murmured. "I must say, I am astonished by how few are deterred by the Divine Beast…"

The warrior at the girl's side frowned at them disapprovingly. "You stand before Lady Riju, chief of the Gerudo!" she barked. "Declare your business, but come no closer!"

Link ducked behind Khana again, staring anxiously at the ground. He recognized the warrior—she was the one who, last evening, had caught Guy the Rito trying to enter the city. _What if she can tell I'm a man?!_

The girl, Riju, leaned forward, smiling faintly. "Hold on, Buliara… That one appears to be more than a common traveler." She met Link's gaze steadily, and his heart pounded harder. "You there—what is your name?"

Khana spoke up. "This is Liela. She's… a mute. And… I'm Khana."

"They think they can stop Vah Naboris," explained the guard that had ushered them in. Link jumped, whirling around; he hadn't noticed her following them. But as soon as she had said her piece, the guard left the throne room, returning to her post.

Riju leaned forward, eyes narrowed with interest. "You think you have what it takes to subdue something as powerful as a Divine Beast? The only ones who could ever control them were Champions, like Lady Urbosa. And all of the Champions died in the Calamity a century ago."

Link frowned. The name Urboa had triggered something within him—not a memory, exactly, but _feelings…_ a sense of awe, and of being intimidated.

Riju, too, seemed to be dwelling on the past. "Hmm... " she sighed, staring absently into the middle distance. "Buliara, a memory just jumped into my head—something my mother spoke of. The Champions were aided, of course, by the Princess and a Hylian swordsman, who later died when the Calamity happened. That swordsman was said to have had close ties with the Sheikah tribe, and…" she lowered her voice, but Link could still hear her. "What of the device on this one's hip? It appears to be a relic of the Sheikah. I can't imagine they would give something so valuable to a simple drifter—can you?"

The guard, Buliara, frowned. "I don't remember ever hearing of a Hylian vai among the Champions."

Riju scoffed. "It's been _a hundred years!_ She could be related to the Sheikah, or the swordsman, or maybe even the Princess herself. Distantly, of course, since it was said that they never married, but… who knows?" She straightened, looking first at Link, then at Khana. "You saw it on your way into town, didn't you? Divine Beast Vah Naboris, cloaked in in a massive sandstorm, hurling lightning at any who dare approach." Her gaze rested for a moment on the fading lightning scars on Link's bared shoulder. She cleared her throat. "We do have something to stop it temporarily, but we have yet to find any way to appease the Divine Beast on our own."

Link felt a knot of stress forming between his shoulder blades. _They expect me to do everything at once. Stop Zora's Domain from flooding, reclaim Vah Ruta, appease Vah Naboris… I can't do it all!_ He nudged Khana, trying to communicate to her with his eyes what he longed to say out loud. _I can't help them. Not yet._

She blinked at him and gave a slight cough. "Actually…" she began, sounding uncomfortable. "We need your Thunderhelm. Zora's Domain is in danger of being flooded; its reservoirs are nearly overflowing, due to the constant thunderstorms caused by Vah Ruta. In a few more weeks, half of the kingdom will be washed away, and all of the Zora may be killed."

Link nodded solemnly, meeting Riju's gaze and praying that she'd understand.

Khana continued, "Liela tried to go there, to calm the Divine Beast, but h… she was struck by lightning and barely survived. If we had the Thunderhelm, we could travel there safely and save the Domain. We would return the Thunderhelm as soon as the danger has—"

"Absolutely not," Buliara growled. "Zora's Domain is not the only place in this kingdom plagued by a Divine Beast—"

"Peace, Buliara," Riju waved her hand. "Our plight is not half as dire as the Zora's. Vah Naboris's presence has not impacted the commerce and tourism we depend on; as long as we stay away from it, we are not harmed. Whereas it seems that Vah Ruta could soon cause the deaths of hundreds." She shook her head. "I would gladly lend you the Thunderhelm, but… well, you see… it was stolen recently by the Yiga Clan."

Buliara's lips turned down to a deep, disapproving frown. "Lady Riju, I must advise you against this. The Thunderhelm is a powerful treasure of the Gerudo, an heirloom passed down by the Champion Urbosa. I don't think you should be treating it so lightly."

Riju nodded slowly, her eyes narrowed upon Link. "Yes, you're right. Khana, Liela… to prove your honesty and your worthiness, I would ask that you steal the Thunderhelm back from the Yiga, calm Vah Ruta… and return it to me. Can you do this?"

Buliara harrumphed, a muscle jumping in her jaw.

"Of course, Lady Riju," Khana said with a slight curtsy. Link clumsily attempted to do the same.

Buliara shook her head wearily. "Our soldiers can tell you all you need to know about the thieves who stole our heirloom." She gestured to the right of the room, where several tall arches led to a sunlit courtyard, from which the faint sounds of weapons clashing and grunts of exertion could be heard. "Head through there, to the barracks. Ask Captain Teake for a full report."

Riju chuckled as they turned to leave. "Heh… you know, I take heart in having such a rare visitor as yourself, _Liela._ Lady Urbosa must be looking out for us."

Link's blood ran cold. There was something off about the way she said his pretended name, but he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was. _She doesn't know. She couldn't. Impossible._

Khana pulled him away, through the arch and into the sunlight beyond, down a short flight of stairs.

"Hey! What are you two doing in here?!" A pale guard marched towards them, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "These are the barracks for the chief's guards, not a place for tourists to gather! We're on high alert after the recent theft, so you should really clear out now."

"Buliara sent us," Khana explained. "We're going to try to reclaim the Thunderhelm."

Link nodded quickly, resenting his current inability to speak. It made him feel useless.

"Oh!" the guard gulped. "My apologies! I'm the officer in charge here—Captain Teake."

"What can you tell us about the theft?" Khana pressed, although Link noticed that she was wringing her hands.

"Well, it was taken by the Yiga Clan," Captain Teake shrugged. "We've determined that their hideout is in Karusa Valley, but—"

"Captain!" Breathless and panting, a guard dashed up to them, eyes wide and anxious. "It's Barta—she's gone! She—she—"

"Calm down," Teake soothed. "What is it?"

The young guard gulped down deep breaths. "She—she said she was going to scout out the thieves' hideout, but then—then she left before we could say anything!"

Teake's eyes widened. "Are you _serious?_ Why did you let her go by _herself?!"_

The guard wrung her hands, tears building in her eyes. "I'm—I'm sorry! She said she just wanted to check it out—she promised to be careful—so I thought—"

"Ten laps around the city!" Teake barked furiously. "We _never_ abandon our sisters—the rest of you, come with me! _Now!_ We have to find her before any further damage can be incurred. Follow me!"

And every one of the Gerudo in the barracks marched away, out through the arch at the southern end of the courtyard, and then through a side opening, leaving the city.

Link stared after them in surprise. "So… Karusa Valley," he murmured, his voice growing rougher from disuse. He pulled out his Sheikah Slate, before remembering that he had not yet retrieved the map of the region. "Do you, by any chance, know where that is?"

Khana gulped, looking all around—except at him. "I… yes. I do. It's a dangerous place, what with the sandstorms and lizalfos and chuchu and _electric_ lizalfos…" She finally glanced at him, fiddling with her fingers. "Yes. I can lead us there."

Link frowned at her. Clearly her last visit to the valley had not gone well; perhaps she had been ambushed? "Are… are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, meeting his gaze with a smile that looked a little too forced; it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Let's buy some supplies; we'll need food, of course… And once we're out of the city you can change back into the voe clothes Kachoo gave you, and that'll stave off the worst of the heat—"

"What about you?" Link asked. She was clad in attire that would be far more suitable for travelling through colder areas, certainly not through stifling heat. _She must've used elixirs before…_ "We'll have to buy more elixirs or—"

"No," Khana cut him off. "That's alright. I have…" She blushed and looked away. "I have, er, special undergarments that protect me. I'll be fine."

Link felt his cheeks grow warm and wished he hadn't asked. "Er… sorry. Right, then. Shall we… get to it, then?"

Khana looked just as awkward as he felt, with her cheeks flushed dark red and a pained grimace plastered over her face, as if she'd just been forced to devour a failed culinary experiment (a feeling Link could relate to very well). "Good idea."

They returned to the crowded market square and quickly split ways; Link dug several rupees from the satchel hooked onto his belt next to his Sheikah Slate and bought several extra waterskins while Khana purchased dried wildberries and coyote jerky.

It was as he was carrying his supplies back to the inn that he heard the scream.

Several screams, high-pitched and piercing. Children's screams.

And the squeal of a horse.

"Hold these," he told the innkeeper, no longer caring that his disguise could be ruined as he dropped the water satchels and dashed towards the screams, past anxious travelers starting towards the sounds and murmuring fearfully.

Link pushed his way through the crowd, drawing his sword, his heart hammering. _Farore, don't let me be too late!_

He rounded a bend in time to see Mist pawing ferociously at the ground, tugging at her lead rope; behind her huddled Dalia and her friends, crying desperately.

"What—" Link began before the edge of a shield struck the back of his head. Painful sparks exploded behind his eyes and he stumbled forward, reeling; somehow his feet danced him away from the next blow and he turned to face the blue lizalfos approaching him, its golden eyes narrowed.

Link gulped. He was armed only with a simple broadsword, whereas the lizalfos carried a jagged steel boomerang and a reinforced lizal shield.

He lunged into battle, stabbing towards the creature's chest, but it skittered away, fast and agile, responding with an attack of its own. Link ducked the creature's angry swipe and darted forward, grimacing at the pressure on his blistered feet. He slashed at its side but it blocked with its shield and jumped towards him, raising its blade high in the air. Link jumped to the side; barely stopping to think, he slipped his feet free and lifted the sandals one at a time, hurling themat each one of the creature's bulging eyes and sending it scuttling backwards, shaking its head in pain.

Link lunged after it, but the lizalfos wasn't quite as tired as he'd assumed—it slashed out with its deadly boomerang, catching him across the chest and tearing the Gerudo top from his body, leaving a dripping line of red across his breast. Gasping at the sharp pain of it he stumbled backwards, gritting his teeth. _Now they'll all know the truth!_

But there was no time to try to salvage his disguise. Mist was in danger; the children were in danger; the _whole town_ was in danger, since its guards had left on a mission to find their lost soldier.

Wrenching the veil from his face (it was getting in the way) he charged the lizalfos once again, ignoring the blood streaking down his chest; it darted to meet him and swung its weapon before he had a chance to raise his. He jumped out of the way; time seemed to slow and he dashed closer, knocking aside its shield and batting away its boomerang, then stabbing into its neck. With a gurgling moan it collapsed, the angry light dimming from its eyes as it slumped over and died in a puddle of its own blood.

Adrenaline fading, Link wiped his blade on the sirwal he wore before sheathing it and turning around, pressing a hand to the gash on his chest as the full pain of it crashed down on him. Mist whickered anxiously; the children were staring at him with a mixture of awe and confusion. A shocked gasp reached his ears and he glanced to the side to see the crowd of travellers and local Gerudo that had gathered, drawn by the sounds of combat. Startled whispers meandered between them—"It's a _voe!"_ "How'd _he_ get in here?" "What do we do?"

"Out of my way!" Buliara pushed her way to the front of the mob, sword raised in preparation for battle. "That fool Teake, leaving the city defenseless—"

Link winced and lowered his head as she neared. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable wearing so little clothing in the presence of so many females.

"So you're a voe," Buliara growled, cold fury burning in her voice. She raised her sword and clubbed him over the head, knocking him sprawling to the ground with pain reverberating in his head. There was pressure on his back; his hands were wrenched behind him and tightly bound. Buliara gripped his hair and pulled him to his feet, drawing a sharp cry from his throat. His eyes watered; he shut them tightly, his head swimming dizzily from the blows dealt to it. Faces blurred before his eyes as Buliara dragged him through the crowd; among them he thought he saw Khana, but he couldn't quite tell. _She'd better get out of here. I don't want to know what the punishment for helping a man get inside the city might be._

He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, but Buliara must have thought he was trying to escape; her grip on his hair tightened and he grimaced. _It's alright,_ he told himself, closing his eyes. _She'll kick me out of the city, and Khana'll meet me there with Mist and our supplies. It'll all work out._

But Buliara did not take him to the main gate, as she had Guy. She dragged him through the market and veered right, towards the barracks. A finger of uncertainty curled around his heart. "Where are you taking me?"

"Quiet!" she snapped, slapping him across the face; his chin jerked to the side, nearly freeing him from the guard's firm grasp and tearing several strands of hair free from his scalp. "Such deception has been attempted before, but never caught, and _never_ by an honored guest. You have disgraced our tribe and spurned all those who offered you shelter and assistance while here. I will counself with Lady Riju about what to do with you, but I hope she doesn't go easy on you."

"But—the Zora!" Through watering eyes he stared up at her desperately. "They—they could die! I have to—"

"You expect us to believe that story?" Buliara scoffed. "After you _lied_ to us about everything else? Ha! You'll get no more sympathy from us, _Liela."_

"That's—that's not my name!" Link tried, struggling with the tightly-knotted ropes around his wrists. "I'm Link—I'm the Hylian swordsman that fought with the Champions—with Lady… er, Lady Barbossa!"

"Her name was _Urbosa!"_ Buliara roared, shoving him hard against the stone wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. "Isn't it enough that you waltz in here with your lies and your sacreligious disguise? Now you have to mock Lady Urbosa as well?!" A vein pulsed in her temple; Link struggled to regain his breath, staring at her fearfully. She was beyond angry now, and it was all his fault. _Curses upon my rotten memory!_

"Urbosa, and the other Champions, have been dead for a century," Buliara snarled. "The Hylian swordsman died with them."

Link didn't dare speak again. It was all he could do to match the tall Gerudo's swift pace as she entered a doorway at the far end of the courtyard, opening down into a stairwell leading into smoky torchlit shadows. Link, still struggling to get his breath back, coughed on the smoke as Buliara led him downwards, to a narrow chamber lined with iron prison cells. She opened the rusty door to one at the very end of the row; the rotting hinges released a furious shriek of unbridled agony, sending chills down Link's spine as Buliara brought him inside, tying the other end of the rope binding his wrists around an iron ring near the ground, rendering it impossible for him to stand.

"May Farore have mercy on you," Buliara growled with a doubtful snort, leaving him alone in the semi-darkness, injured, bound, half-naked, and beginning to be afraid.

 _Now what?_


	9. Chapter 9

**9\. Breakout**

 **Sorry for the wait! Life's been kind of crazy these past few weeks.**

 **So there are some things in this chapter that, as far as I know, are not strictly canon; these are just my thoughts and my fantasies about how some aspects of the world might work out. Hope you enjoy!**

Khana huddled within an empty barrel tucked down the lonely side of an alley, her heart hammering violently. She had no doubt that if Teake and her band had not left the city earlier, leaving Buliara's forces understaffed, she would be joining Link in captivity. The instant she'd seen him dragged away, she'd bolted—not out of disloyalty, but out of the realization that Buliara was a fearful fighter and would easily best her if she'd tried to free Link.

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and massaging her temples. _Think. We can do this._

All of their supplies, save the food wrapped in parchment in her satchel, were back at the inn. And Mist was still tethered to the ring in the wall. _That'll be my first step_ — _to get them out of the city together. Then I can focus on freeing Link._ She chewed her lip, thinking back on the many objects she had stolen in the past at Master Khoga's request—swords, bomb arrows, food, flint, money… Though the thought of her crimes brought guilt to her now, the skills she had developed to accomplish them would surely aid her now. _I've stolen loads of things before; why would stealing a person be any different?_

She frowned thoughtfully. When she'd last seen him, Link had been wounded, with blood streaking across his chest, and he'd seemed horribly dazed as well. In that brief glimpse, she hadn't been able to discern if the lizalfos really had severely injured him; stealing him would probably be harder than it might have been hormally.

 _Regardless, darkness is my ally. I'll wait for night to fall._

Through the cracks in her barrel she could see the sun's light; she waited patiently for the day to end, though her cramped limbs ached and she longed to stretch them out. But Master Khoga was nothing if not thorough; one of the first things he had taught her was how to push pain aside, to prevent it from interfering with her duty. So she waited silently, still as stone.

 _If only I'd finished my training before Link woke up,_ she groused. The Yiga, like their Sheikah ancestors, were masters of shadow magic; they could use it to teleport, summon and store weapons, and stalk enemies unseen, all through manipulation of the mysterious Gash—a mystical space between space, like a separate dimension where time had no meaning.

Khana had begun training with the Gash a few weeks before Link was first spotted roaming the wilds once again; she had mastered the elaborate spellcasting gesticulations of her right hand necessary to withdraw and store weapons in the Gash, and she'd just finished learning about using the Gash to hang in midair while shooting. Master Khoga had been about to teach her the art of using the Gash to instantly travel from place to place when they received word from a scout that the hero had awakened. Then she, along with almost all of the other Yiga warriors, were sent out to scour every corner of the kingdom to try and take the life of the Hylian Champion.

Khana sighed deeply. Teleportation would certainly be helpful right about now—she'd be able to jump through the Gash right into wherever they'd taken Link, and then she'd be able to take them both right back out again. But as it was… _There'll be guards. I don't know why they didn't just kick him out the way they did Guy, but there must be a reason. So he'll be guarded, I'm sure._ She would have to sneak past them.

At long last the final dim glow of sunshine had died away, and a chill gripped the new night air. Khana slipped from her hiding place, arching her spine and rolling back her shoulder blades, bending down and touching her toes, stretching out her sore muscles—she would need to be at the top of her game to get past the Gerudo guards.

She flexed her fingers and reached into the Gash, withdrawing the enchanted Yiga climbing gloves she'd been gifted on her last birthday, and pulled the loose neck of the uniform beneath her tunic up over her mouth and nose, tucking her hair down so that it wouldn't whip around her face and blind her should a breeze kick up.

She placed both hands on the nearest wall, waiting as the familiar low hum of a spell engaged and a faint crimson halo flashed around her fingertips before quickly fading away. Then she quickly scaled the wall, the muscles in her arms and calves burning; she hadn't used them in this way for several weeks, since there had never been a need.

Everything in Gerudo City, from what she'd seen, was very square and prism-like; as a result it was a simple task for her to leap from stone rooftop to rooftop, landing with the agility of a cat on soft-toed boots as she made her way across the city, keeping far away from the tall silhouettes of guards standing on the protective wall encircling the town, keeping watch from above. But their attention was focused on the silent desert beyond the city, where, Khana noticed, a sandstorm seemed to be brewing in the north. _Hmm… that could complicate things._

She felt exposed beneath the silver moonlight, but reason assured her that she was safe. No one would be looking for her here; no one would see her.

It was only a matter of minutes before she reached the large, flat surface of the inn; carefully she crawled back down the wall and listened closely beneath the small, open window. Everything seemed quiet and safe, so she squeezed through the opening, tiptoeing past sleeping Rito and Hylian women until she reached the beds she and Link had occupied the night before.

Their possessions were just as they'd left them; all that was missing were the waterskins Link had bought that afternoon. Khana softly placed her packages of food in their saddlebags and lifted them in her arms, carrying them back to the window and gently lowering them to the ground before scrambling out after them. Laden with supplies, she slipped from shadow to shadow through the alleys until at last she reached Mist's corner.

The wind was beginning to pick up and sand swirled in the air as she murmured soothingly to the little mare, stroking her thick neck affectionately. Deftly and silently she saddled the horse and unfastened her lead rope from the iron ring in the wall, looping it around her neck to create the makeshift bridle Link had been using. Then she fastened the saddlebags back to the saddle where they belonged; looking around furtively from side to side and ensuring that they were still alone, she muttered a prayer to Farore that Mist would not be heard. She led the little mare out from her corner, grimacing at the scrape of hoof against stone. _Someone'll hear this for sure!_

But the wind was gaining strength; a sudden great gust of it tore the fearful thought from her mind as it rustled the leaves of the palm fronds and snapped the canvas walls and ceilings of market stalls. The clip-clop of Mist's hoofbeats were drowned out in the howling din.

Khana glanced at the sky, her shoulders relaxing in relief. _Thank you._

Horse and Yiga continued towards the barracks, where the second, less-used entrance to the city stood. Khana paused before entering the small, sandy courtyard beside the archway, pressing her back to the sandstone. _There are sure to be guards,_ Khana thought, and when she peeked around the corner she saw that she was right—near a small paddock of burly sand seals sleeping soundly, two spear-wielding Gerudo warriors stood on either side of the sandstone arch leading outside.

Mist whickered softly and Khana cringed, fearing that the sound would alert the two to their presence. But the wind, gaining strength, swept away the low sound; the soldiers stood still, evidently unaware.

Khana tapped her foot against the ground, frowning as frantic thoughts poured through her head—thoughts of escape, thoughts of Link, thoughts of fear and danger. She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply, forcing concentration to return to her mind. _Focus._

She glanced back at the two guards. If she just rode past them, there would certainly be questions asked. A lone girl riding out into the desert in the middle of the night on a _horse_ in the middle of what was swiftly becoming a sandstorm would be suspicious on the best of days, and with Link, who was now sans-disguise… If the two of them just decided to ride out peacefully, they'd get thrown under lock and key.

No; simply riding out was not an option.

Sand swirled up into her face, stinging her eyes, and she gasped, hands flying up, as Mist whinnied anxiously. This time the guards _did_ hear; Khana heard them muttering to each other, though the wind carried their words away. Blinking grit from her eyes, she squinted at the little mare, whose eyes were narrowed, nearly closed, in an attempt to keep out the sand. _Well… we're not going anywhere if Mist is blind, and that sand could really hurt her…_

She delved into the saddlebags, found nothing useful, and began retracing their steps, looking for something that would help them. The closer she got to Mist's corner, the less the wind howled, blocked out by the thick stone walls; as she scanned the ground, a flicker of movement caught her eye, and she turned to see, half-buried in the soil, a familiar turquoise strip of light cloth. Khana squinted at it and recognition dawned in her mind. It was the transparent sleeve from Link's disguise, now dirty and bloodied but otherwise intact. Khana snatched it up and tore it into a long strip, heading back to Mist and tying it snugly around the mare's eyes. The fabric was light enough to allow the her to see through it, but thick enough to keep the sand from her eyes.

As she ran a comforting hand over the little mare's shoulder, it occurred to her that Mist was small enough to fit through the arch with plenty of room to spare. And she was strong; she had run across the desert even after a long, arduous trek the day before. Khana closed her eyes, imagining the mare knocking the two guards aside as she charged through the arch. _Fantastic. That'll work._

Her plan in place, she returned to the deserted market square and tethered Mist to the nearest palm tree before creeping towards the barracks, silent and still under the silver moon. There was a large crate full of weapons and shields in the corner—unguarded and unlocked.

Her fingers twitched. She started towards the crate, a smile tugging at her lips. _Old habits die hard. Besides—they've got plenty to spare. They won't miss anything._

With nimble fingers she snatched two curved scimitars from the box— _One for me, one for Link_ —along with two circular brass shields and two slender golden bows, clearly of a much higher quality than Link's little wooden boko bow. She shoved the weapons she'd stolen for the hero into the Gash, buckled the blade and bow over her back, and slid the shield over her arm. Then, pressing herself against the wall to keep herself concealed in the shadows, she surveyed the rest of the courtyard, eyes narrowed and calculating. A set of stairs at the far end led up to a tent-like room from which the sounds of snoring and light chatter drifted down to Khana's long ears. At the base of the stairs and slightly to the left was a wooden door, flanked by two guards. Khana shrank deeper into the shadow cast by the crate.

 _That's it. That's where they're keeping him._

Khana swallowed tightly. _If only I could travel through the Gash… this would be so much simpler._ As it was, she'd have to turn to more traditional methods of theft.

There was nothing to hide behind between her and the guards, except for the weapons crate. That left a good seven feet of empty space for her to cross to get to the door, and with the guards there, it would be impossible. _I'll have to get them away from the door somehow._ She hesitated. The simplest course of action would be to kill them, but… she could imagine the horrified, disappointed look on Link's face if she chose that course. _No. Murder is what the Yiga Clan does, not what Link does. Not what_ I _will do._

She could throw one of the Yiga weapons in her stash to the cobblestones; the guards would investigate the clattering sound it made, leaving the door clear for—

"Babi! Kotta! Get in here!"

Khana froze at the sound of Captain Teake's voice, pressing herself closer to the wall.

"But, Captain—the voe—"

"The door's locked, isn't it?" Teake asked tersely. "He's chained to the wall? And apparently he's injured, from what Buliara told me."

"Yes, Captain," the other guard said. "But there was a girl with him, wasn't there?"

There was a brief pause. Khana didn't dare move, knowing that the slightest hint of motion would give her away.

"I'm not asking you to abandon your post," Teake assured them. "But the wind is getting worse. You know what that means; come change into something more protective. Flying grains of sand can feel like knives. That voe won't be able to escape in five minutes—if you hurry." The note of warning in her voice betrayed the hint of a threat.

"Yes, Captain," the two replied in unison, jogging quickly up the stairs and into the tent-like structure above. Khana waited a few moments to be sure that they were gone; then she sprinted from her hiding place, crouching low to the ground across the courtyard.

The door was indeed locked, but one of the first things she had been taught was how to pick locks. She pulled a thin, sturdy wire from a leather pouch hanging from her belt, poking it into the keyhole, jiggling it around until there was a soft click barely audible over the raging wind; she pushed the door open and ducked soundlessly inside.

A torchlit stairwell choked with smoke greeted her within; pulling the scarf about her neck over her mouth and nose she made her way down as quickly as she silently could, peering around the walls to check for any additional guards—the sandstorm would have no effect on them down here, thought the smoky air might.

At the bottom of the stairs she withdrew the weapons she'd stolen for Link from the Gash and gathered them in her arms; she'd come to a long, narrow hall lined with iron cells, illuminated by glaring orange firelight. There were no guards; the cells she could see were empty, but she could hear someone coughing at the end. Someone with a very masculine voice.

"Link?" she called out softly, wincing as her voice echoed loudly.

"Khana!"

His voice, light with relief but abnormally husky, came from the very end of the long line of cells; Khana hurried forward past rows and rows of iron bars and sandstone walls until at last she reached the cell at the back of the room. Link was there, crouched on the floor with his arms bound behind his back to an iron ring in the wall. A thrill of self-consciousness shot through her from her initial initial glance at his muscular, shirtless form, followed by numb horror as she noticed the thin red wound streaking from his collarbone to his lower ribs, dried blood streaked across his skin. A gasp escaped her lips and she nearly dropped her weapons.

"Are you alright?" she asked, setting them down and working swiftly on the lock to the cell door.

He coughed, head bowed, his breathing labored. "Just a little sore," he assured her, though his words were slurred and his eyes, when he looked at her, were nearly closed.

She studied him anxiously, but she couldn't see evidence of any other wounds on his body. Swallowing tightly, she went back to work; the door clicked open and she darted inside, drawing her sword and severing the rope that fastened him to the wall and sawing at the knot binding his wrists. A blush warmed her face; the shadows cast by the torches threw the taut muscles of his chest, back, and arms into sharp definition. Before she could allow herself to be distracted further she took his hand, being careful of his chafed wrists, and pulled him to his feet. He staggered, coughing again and grimacing as he straightened; then his eyes widened upon the weapons Khana was pressing into his arms.

"These—these are Gerudo forged," he mumbled thickly.

Khana ignored the twinge of guilt tugging at her heart and instead focused on the tone of his voice; it still sounded rugged and hoarse. No doubt because of the smoke, but…

Drawn by curiosity, she brushed his thick bangs away from his brow to find a dark violet bruise over his temple, with a thin stream of blood dried upon it. "How bad is this?" she asked, gently fingering the swelling injury and trying to ignore the fact that he was very much shirtless. And failing.

Link didn't answer, eyes flicking down to the weapons in his grasp. "You didn't… _steal_ them…?"

Khana pushed the guilt stewing in her stomach away with a smile. "We're _borrowing_ them." _Without permission._ "It's fine. Besides, they took your weapons, didn't they?"

"Khana—"

Her smile deflated, replaced by a guilty frown of surly annoyance. She grabbed his shield and shoved it onto his left forearm, less careful of his raw wrists this time. "You can't fight the Yiga with a cheap civilian sword and a boko bow."

His shoulders slumped, and guiltily he buckled the scimitar around his chest, hooking the golden bow to the sheath. Khana hated doing it to him, forcing him to compromise his morals… shame bubbled in her soul, but she pushed it down, to stubborn and frightened to confront the matter further. She took his hand and pulled him towards the stairwell, hoping that the dizziness in his uneven stride was only imagined—but it _was_ an awfully large bruise, she supposed… "Come on. The sandstorm drew the guards away for a while, but there's no telling how long they'll take to get back out."

" _Sandstorm?!"_

Khana nodded in wordless affirmation. One would have to be a fool, or desperate, to travel through the desert at the moment.

Perhaps they were both.

Khana opened the door, grimacing as the whirling sands assaulted her face. She pulled the scarf around her neck up to cover her mouth and nose, just as she heard the guards' shout from the tent above.

"Hey! You!"

And a muffled gasp: "It's the voe!"

Khana tightened her grip on Link's hand and pulled him onwards at a frantic run through the howling wind raging. The Gerudo guards, now adorned with thicker clothing and headscarves, rushed down the staircase towards them and drew their scimitars with the rasp of steel on leather.

"Prisoner escaping!" one shouted, while the other blew a shrill, piercing note on her whistle.

Khana grit her teeth at the muffled sounds of footsteps and urgent voices issuing from within the tent; she dragged Link across the courtyard, stunned by his sluggish, clumsy movements so different from his usual athletic grace. _That blow to the head must be worse than I thought!_

There was no time to check on him now; he was slowing them both down, and the Gerudo were hot on their heels. But Mist was waiting patiently just around the corner; Khana dashed up to the little mare, drawing her blade in a flash and severing the rope binding her to the palm tree as Link pulled himself into the saddle. She place her hands behind him just as the Gerudo reached them, snatching Khana's wrist and dragging her away. Mist pranced nervously as the other guard grabbed Link's right forearm and threw him to the ground, pressing her foot to his chest and levelling her sword at his neck.

"Don't move," she growled.

Khana lashed out, elbowing the guard holding her in the ribs and clubbing her over the head, sending her tumbling unconscious to the ground. The other Gerudo turned at her comrade's grunt of pain—"Hey!"

Link rolled over on the ground, unbalancing the guard and sending her toppling down. Quickly he surged to his feet and jumped back up to Mist's back; the poor little mare whinnied fearfully as he pulled Khana up behind him. She couldn't help but gasp in exhilaration—the strength in his arm, the sight of his muscles flexing—then he dug his heels into Mist's sides and she lunged forward, leaping into a gallop at once.

"Stop at once!" shouted the guard that had tried to take Link, breathless from exertion. "Bar the gate!"

Link skillfully reined Mist around a sharp corner towards the arch, where two guards crossed their spears across the opening. Khana grit her teeth, curling her arms tightly around Link's solid abdominals— _There's not enough room to jump_ —

But Mist did not slow; she barreled past the guards, wrenching their spears from their grasps and sending them tumbling to the ground as she darted out into the roaring sandstorm. Khana grit her teeth, narrowing her eyes against the sharp grains of sand swirling in the air. "Head north!" she shouted through her scarf; Link dipped his head almost imperceptibly and with a gentle tug on the reins Mist veered right, into the north.

To Karusa Valley, and the Yiga Clan.


	10. Chapter 10

**10\. Suspicion**

Link ignored the pain plaguing his body as long as he could. The cold, the wind, the ache in his head, the burn across his chest. The stirrup irons dug into his bare feet; the swirling sands cut across his exposed torso like hundreds of tiny needles pricking his skin. Stabbing, throbbing pain pulsed in his head, as if his skull were a snare drum played in a march. A flicker of memory pierced his mind as the metaphor occurred to him—a wooden instrument in his hands; music drifting through the air; the blast of trumpets in his ear—but his thoughts were too dizzy to focus on the glimpse of his past.

He wanted to stop, to rest, to lie down and stay down until his head stopped hurting, but it was impossible. The rolling sand dunes went on and on, broken here and there by cacti and shrubby little hydromelon plants barely discernible through the whirling storm. There was nowhere for them to take shelter.

Fortunately, it seemed that the Gerudo did not think he was a dangerous enough prisoner to pursue. Either that or the sandstorm had deterred them. He had not heard nor seen any sign of their sand seals coming after him.

But his Sheikah Slate seemed to be malfunctioning. He slowed Mist to a brisk trot, slipping the device from his hip and sliding his fingers across its slick surface, opening the map feature. The screen was grainy with static; where once there had been at least a compass, now there was nothing.

He swallowed tightly, wincing as he felt grains of sand clawing down his sore throat. Without the compass… without landmarks to guide them… they were lost.

He tugged hard on Mist's reins, pulling her to a stop. "We can't keep going," he called hoarsely over the raging wind. "The farther we go tonight, the farther off course we'll get."

Only Khana's eyes were visible behind the scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth, but they were grim and determined. She nodded briskly and dismounted, squinting into the storm.

"I think I see something," she called up to him. "A… a column, of some sort…"

"That'll do," Link mumbled groggily. Mist had stopped moving, but the steady beat of her trot had settled into his mind, pounding incessantly. He closed his eyes, a faint moan escaping his lips as an unsteady breath shook his lungs. Oh Din, the pain… it devoured his concentration the way a lynel might devour a Hylian swordsman. Clenching his teeth, he forced his eyes open and sucked in a deep, steadying breath—and instantly began to cough, sand tearing at his lungs, which of course just caused him to inhale _more_ sand, and his head throbbed harder all the while.

"Link?" Khana's voice barely registered to his swimming mind. Sand and coughs ripped at his throat; he screwed his eyes shut, struggling to regain control, and he felt the world tilt violently sideways… he landed on his side in soft sand that caught him like a pillow, but the ache in his head kept him from fully realizing what happened. He shivered, blinking against the whirling storm obscuring his vision; he saw two violet eyes hovering over him, filled with concern, and sudden embarrassment took him as he realized how many times Khana had seen him at his weakest. _What must she think of me?_

Gritting his teeth, he wobbled to his feet, determined that this time, at least, she wouldn't have to help him. _Come on, Link! It's just a little bruise—surely you can handle it!_

He walked slowly to Mist's head and gripped the reins just beneath her nose. "Good girl," he mumbled, patting her neck. Blearily he turned to Khana. "Where's the column?"

She looked confused for a moment. No doubt his words had slurred together to become nearly indiscernible. "This way," she said at last, turning and heading off into the storm. Link trudged after her, feet sliding in the sand.

After several moments of blindly following through the storm the column appeared as if by magic, tall, thick, and wide, and Link felt solid stone beneath his feet. The change was so abrupt that he staggered with a slight gasp before regaining his balance by leaning against Mist's sturdy shoulder. She whickered anxiously, nudging his shoulder. "Thanks," he murmured, swaying slightly.

Khana did something with her hands that he didn't quite catch; in the next moments she was holding a flapping length of dark red canvas fabric, struggling to bind it around the column with a sturdy-looking cord. Link lurched forward, trying to help; grinding his teeth together against the pain, he snatched one of the canvas's corners and looked around for something to anchor it to. There were no other convenient columns nearby, at least as far as he could see, but he found an oblong rock twice the size of his head resting where stone met sand. It was jagged, scraping a thin layer of skin from his hands, but he managed to fasten the canvas corner around it.

By then, Khana had finished attaching the makeshift tent to the column, and she was just finishing with the next corner. Which left only one more, fluttering in the wind like a bird struggling to escape a Molduga's tongue. Link staggered over to the loose end, snatching the attached cord and dragging it over to the edge of the stone—which once might have been a platform of some sort—and winding it around a rugged protrusion.

"Thanks," Khana coughed over the wind, drawing closer. "I… could've done it myself…" Her voice was tense with concern.

Link waved her off. _How to tell her why I did it… can't just say I didn't want to seem weak…_ "You got me out of that city," he answered instead, hoping he wouldn't have to explain further.

She shrugged, glancing downward. "Well… I couldn't get the Thunderhelm and face the Yiga alone, could I?" And then, even softer, she added, "I… feel better with you by my side."

Link tilted his head, studying her carefully closed expression. _Did she really say that?_ He felt warm, unexpectedly touched by her words.

But then again… perhaps not so unexpected.

When he'd first seen her coming after him in the prison, the warm rush of emotion that swelled within his breast had been difficult to decipher at first. There was gratitude, of course, and relief, and even dread, at the thought of moving again with the crippling bruise on his head…

But there had been something else, as well. Admiration. And not just because she was so tough, and clever, and resourceful…

She was a great friend. She'd come back for him, though there was nothing, no reward, for her in his quest. No reward for him, either; at least, not a tangible one... but that was beside the point.

Her rescue, and the words she whispered to the wind, hinted that she was staying with him not only because she believed in his quest, but also because…

She… _wanted_ to be with him?

The thought brought a smile to his lips. Despite the pain across his chest and throbbing in his head, he slept soundly, untroubled by nightmares or the wind howling outside.

* * *

The storm was over by the time dawn arrived, leaving the desert unnervingly still and silent. Khana left the tent to feed and water Mist (who had spent the night wedged between the open desert and the tent's opening), offering Link the privacy to change back into the voe armor Kachoo had given him, although admittedly it didn't cover up as much of his torso as propriety demanded.

When he finished, he raised one hand up to finger the bruise on his brow, wincing at the cold pain, but other than that he was relatively intact. The cut across his chest didn't hurt as bad; it had already scabbed over and it didn't look infected. Dimly he remembered that the Gerudo had cleaned the gash while he was imprisoned. They certainly didn't like him, but they weren't barbarians, and he had just saved several children, after all…

The voe attire was far more comfortable, although he wished it covered more of his chest. There really was nothing he could do about it, so he pushed himself to his feet, buckled his weapons—his _stolen_ weapons, he thought with a pang of shame—to his back and waist, and walked out into the bright morning sunlight.

Raising a hand to shield his eyes, he made his way over to Khana, who was standing with Mist in the shade of another column nearby. Now in the crisp, divulging light of morning he could see the remnants of what once had been a grand pavilion, perhaps a temple of some sort. Thick stone columns… elegant diases and alters… tiled floor…

"How do you feel?" Khana asked, turning from the brush she was dragging over Mist's dusty back.

"Better," Link nodded, walking closer. His throat twinged at the words; he'd inhaled a good deal of sand last night. Sand he could feel rattling in his lungs with each breath. Wincing slightly, he turned to his horse and combed his fingers through her mane. "Sleeping helped."

He felt her gaze upon him and did his best to ignore it. The brush she held… there was a Sheikah eye engraved upon its deep mahogany surface. From the way she held it, he couldn't tell if it was right side up or upside down—if it was the mark of the Sheikah or the Yiga. Either way, he couldn't remember her having it earlier.

And he couldn't remember her having the dark red canvas that became their tent.

And how had she carried the weapons she'd stolen for him quietly enough to remain undetected by the Gerudo Guards?

She just didn't add up.

A nagging worry tugged at his heart, fostered by the memories. Khana had stolen weapons. Picked locks. Knocked a guard unconscious. And she said she'd been travelling behind him, close enough to witness his battle with the moblins, but he hadn't seen anyone else on the road besides the woman he'd rescued—and she had looked _nothing_ like Khana.

"Are you alright?"

She was looking at him with concern in her entrancing violet eyes. Violet—such an unusual color, and so bright… eyes just like those of the Yiga assassin he'd encountered weeks ago. _Coincidence? Or are they related somehow?_

He was beginning to feel slightly nauseous, but if she were there to kill him, he couldn't let her see any sign of weakness. "I'm fine," he answered softly. "My head's just a little sore…"

She stepped closer, brow furrowed in concentration as she gently gripped his jaw and turned the bruised side of his face towards the light, glancing intently between the injury and his eyes. A blush warmed his cheeks at the intensity of her gaze, and her close proximity to him; all at once he was suddenly acutely aware of her fingers brushing his skin, and of his lack of clothing… he tried to ignore the fluttering of his heart, tried to focus on his realization that her eyes, her beautiful violet eyes, entrancing eyes, were the same color as the Yiga…

She released him. "Sorry; I was just checking. It's such a bad bruise, I wouldn't have been surprised if you had a concussion. But the goddesses are on your side," she smiled. "Thank Farore—you're fine." Her smile faded as she continued searching his face, still standing distractedly close. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"No." Link turned away from her, moving to Mist's other side and stroking her sturdy neck. "Everything's fine." _Except for the fact that you have all of the characteristics of a thief. Or an assassin._

 _Or both_ —a Yiga.

He swallowed tightly. A cold stone had dropped into his stomach, spreading icy fear and the merciless hurt of betrayal through his limbs, but he forced his expression to remain neutral. _She's a Yiga. Of course. Can I trust a word she says?_

"Let's go," he muttered, swinging up onto Mist's back. The little mare snorted and tossed her head, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other as if sensing the heaviness in his voice.

"Good idea," Khana said, her voice low and soft as she climbed up behind him. A pang of regret shot through him—she sounded just as hurt as he felt. _Was I wrong?_ Hope coursed through him, but he forced it away— _She's pretending. She's a Yiga; she's here to kill me._

They headed off, cantering leisurely across the sands. The air was pleasantly warm, but the breeze echoed of the cold night before, sending shivers across Link's exposed chest and back. The sky was wide open, a cheery shade of blue; in the distance the color clashed harshly with the towering orange cliffs to the north. Beautiful, in a tough, rugged way…

 _Like Khana._

He ground his teeth together, feeling the whisper-light touch of her arms loosely locked around his midriff. He thought of the fierce glow in her eyes when she'd freed him the night before, the concern in her gaze as she saw the scratch across his chest, the bruise over his temple…

And he certainly could not forget that she had undeniably saved his life by bringing him to Kara Kara.

And that raised within him a hopeful query: If she was truly a Yiga, why was he still alive? She'd had ample opportunity to take his life, and he would never have been able to stop her. So why hadn't she killed him?

A shudder gripped his frame as he remembered his first encounter with the Yiga. He hadn't known it at first… she had looked like any other traveller, but her eyes—violet like Khana's—had been red from the tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed beneath an apple tree. And when he asked her if he could help, tried to comfort her… she'd vanished for a brief moment, reappearing moments later in the blood-red uniform of a Yiga assassin.

His heart sank down to his toes.

Perhaps this was yet another Yiga plot, but this time… this time it was far crueler. Almost unbearably so.

This time, she'd actually become a friend. Someone he cared about. Someone who made him feel safe, and alive, and… someone he quite possibly…

He gulped, trying to swallow the thick lump in his throat.

Someone he was in love with.

Almost instantly he cast aside the thought. _Oh, sure. You've been awake for what, three months? Recovered all of_ one _distinct_ _memory from before? And now you know what being_ in love _feels like? Ha!_

This wasn't love, he concluded. It was loneliness, longing for a friend. He shook his head, squared his shoulders, and focused on the approaching crimson cliffs. _If it turns out that Khana's a Yiga, I'll be ready,_ he told himself. _And if she's not, I'll just keep trying to be her friend._

But there was an awful feeling in his soul, a premonition that he forced himself to ignore. _It's always better to think the best of people._

As the sun inched higher, dispelling the lingering chill of the night, Link slowed Mist's trot to a steady trot to conserve her energy. She held her head high, refreshed and alert after nearly two days of rest in Gerudo City. She obeyed his directions willingly as Khana murmured them in his ear, directing him a little to the west, a bit more to the north, telling him the exact location of Karusa Valley.

Yet another suspicious fact to add to the list.

They made their way over the pale sands, past a thorny cluster of dry bushes amid a small gathering of cacti, through the massive, bleached-white rib bones of a long-dead monster, perhaps a Molduga. Thinking of the stalmoblins he'd come across before meeting Khana, he was grateful that Ganon's magic had not reanimated this corpse, at least.

 _This area of the desert must have been a magnificent desert at some point,_ Link thought as they passed yet another crumbling pillar and a worn statue of a warrioress with her blade jabbing west. There were ruins all over the rolling sands—he could see more in the distance, rising like ancient fingers grouping through years of wind and swirling dust, bursting out into the sun. _Did they look like this a hundred years ago, before I was….?_ He tried to imagine what the structures would have looked like in their prime.

They found a hydromelon plant around noon and stopped for a quick meal, all three of them eagerly devouring the succulent golden flesh of the large fruit. Refreshed, they continued onwards, northward towards the cliffs looming ever-nearer. Between them, Link noticed as they drew closer, was a small cleft in the rock—a slot canyon.

 _Karusa Valley._

He slowed Mist to a walk. The air was unnaturally still; there were no singing birds, nor hot blasts of desert wind. The only sounds were those of Mist's heavy breathing and the soft mushing of her hooves sinking in the sand.

The walls of the canyon closed over their heads, encasing them in red-tinged shadow. Link swallowed thickly, glancing all around uneasily. The tension in the air was a heavy, palpable force weighing on his shoulders. _I am not welcome here—in the lair of the Yiga Clan._


	11. Chapter 11

**11\. Memory**

Mist whickered nervously, a low rumble that reverberated deep within her throat. Link stroked her neck, trying to comfort her, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Wicked-looking red banners and wooden decorations criss-crossed over the canyon, similar to the ones in Kakariko Village—but there, of course, Link had felt safe in the lush green mountains; the air was cool and comforting. Karusa Valley was the opposite, stuffed between two angry red cliffs instead of nestled within the open mountaintops. In stark contrast to the crisp mountain air and the green grass and birds and crickets and people of Kakariko, Karusa Valley burned in the dry desert air, devoid of birdsong and friendly chatter. There was complete and utter silence.

The ground was swiftly growing rockier, more treacherous. Link felt Mist slide a little on the loose gravel and quickly dismounted, gesturing for Khana to do the same. "Stay here," he warned his little horse, holding his palms out.

She tossed her head and nosed his hands aside, leading the way onward through the blood-red canyon.

"Doesn't listen to you much, does she?" Khana flashed him a slight smirk, nudging him playfully.

Link knew he ought to have grinned back, or felt touched by his mare's display of loyalty, or at least responded to his friend's comment, but instead he blurted out, "This place is freaking me out."

Khana's glib expression faded, and she broke away from his gaze. "I agree with you there. I wish I never…" She paused, sucking in a swift breath, biting her lip. She scuffed the ground with the toe of her boot, worming her fingers through Mist's thick mane… "Link, I… there's something you need to know."

He stopped walking, studying her with a pounding heart, dread spreading outwards from his shoulder blades. _Oh, no… here it comes. This is it._

She drew in a deep breath, eyes watering with tears. "I… I _was_ a Yiga," she admitted.

He pressed his eyes closed, feeling sick, forgetting how to breathe. _Just as I suspected._ And the confirmation of the truth… it burned, like a branding iron pressed to ais gut. But more than that there was confusion, and dread—why had she changed? _Had_ she really changed? Was this all another cruel, elaborate trap?

"But I promise you," she continued, her voice thick with emotion, "I swear by my Sheikah heritage that I don't want to kill you know, that I was wrong, that the Yiga Clan is wrong, that I renounce everything they've taught me. Because _you're right,_ Link. You're doing the right thing, and you're a good person, and—and I…" She gulped, glancing into his eyes. She flinched and looked away. "I want to be your friend," she whispered brokenly. Then with a slight gasp she turned and dashed away from him; her expression in that instant had been one of utter agony.

Link watched her, feeling numb. _What do I do now? Can I trust her?_ Nayru's love, he _wanted_ to trust her. His heart told him yes, he could, he _should_ —but his mind objected; she was the enemy.

And all at once two Yiga assassins popped into existence in front of Khana, sickles raised to… _attack_ her? One of their own?

"Hello, sister," one of them sneered, her voice muffled by her Yiga mask. "Or should I say… _traitor!"_

She raised her weapon high—

And Link froze.

* * *

 _Riding over a green field. "Stop following me."_

 _Gathering mushrooms in the woods. "Stop following me."_

 _Staying the night at a stable while rain poured down. "Stop following me."_

 _Galloping through a narrow canyon. "Stop following me."_

 _Trekking through the hot sands. "Stop following me."_

 _The only three words she had spoken to him in the days since she'd almost gotten away from him on the hill by the shrine. Frankly, it was fraying Link's nerves. Not that he was much of a conversationalist, but usually the Princess kept up a constant stream of babbling—"This rushroom can increase your speed… I do believe that was a tireless frog and if you eat it… I wonder why the wild horse numbers are dwindling… The physical properties of the magnesis rune could revolutionize the creation of magnets in Hyrule…"—about anything and everything. Now, of course, she was silent, except to say those three words with a voice dripping with disgust and vehemence. It was immensely uncomfortable, and Link's attempts at reconciliation were pointedly ignored._

 _But he did not heed her words. The kingdom expected him to do his job—so he would, to the best of his ability, despite the Princess' petulance. And despite his own reluctance and growing frustration._

" _I don't_ want _to follow you," he thought about saying many times._ But what I want doesn't matter. Never has. Never will. Dreams don't come true. Especially not when a magical blade and an obstinate Princess and a protective King are involved.

" _For the good of the kingdom," he could hear his father counselling. Link kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering over the canyon floor._ It's the right thing to do. But maybe it's too hard for me, _he thought._

 _The visit with Urbosa had gone well, all things considered. Link was still in possession of all of his clothes, weapons, and limbs, and the Princess had not exploded out of rage. Now they were finally on their way out of the dry, dusty, sweltering desert and on their way north, to cooler temperatures for a little while… until they reached Death Mountain (for what Link hoped was a final visit)._

 _Night was swiftly falling. Link leaned against the stable wall, watching the shadows lengthen in the canyon. For once, the Princess had volunteered to cook their dinner, a gesture that he hoped meant she was trying to apologize. Of course, nothing was certain where_ she _was concerned—she was equally likely to poison him as to help him._

How did I go so wrong so fast? _he wondered anxiously, folding his arms tightly across his chest._ Could I have been more polite about following her? Maybe if I talked more…

 _A slight cough broke him from his thoughts. Blinking in surprise, he found that the Princess had approached him; she held a steaming mug in her hands. "Link, I… I've been feeling horrible about the way I've been treating you," she said kindly. "So… I… I made this. For you. It… it's milk, but I've added a few spices guaranteed to boost your energy by the time you wake up tomorrow. Don't worry; I've used this recipe countless times on myself. I assure you it's perfectly safe."_

 _Link studied her carefully._ This is new. _It was such a sudden, inexplicable change… but she certainly seemed sincere. "Th-thank you," he stammered, gently accepting the cup and taking a sip. His eyes widened in surprise—it was delicious! Eagerly he downed the rest of the milk, gratitude warming his heart at the Princess' kindness._

 _It was then that he noticed her expression. She had a wide grin on her face. The look of a proud cat just having caught itself a fat, juicy canary._

" _P-princess?" he queried, an eyebrow raised. It was then that he felt it—a sudden weakness in his knees, quickly spreading throughout his entire body. With a startled gasp he slumped downwards, unable to hold himself upright. "P… Prin…"_

 _His lips were numb; his vision blurred and he felt suddenly exhausted. Darkness crawled at the corners of his vision; his last thoughts before unconsciousness swept over him—_ She drugged me…

* * *

 _He awakened in one of the stables warm, soft beds, fully clothed. The first thing he noticed was the time—mid-afternoon, based on the length of the shadows._

 _And the second thing he noticed… he_ could not sit _still. Energy coursed through his veins, making his movements too fast, jittery and anxious. He could see farther, hear clearer; his body was bursting with more energy than he knew what to do with._ What in Din's name did the Princess put in that milk?!

 _He froze. The Princess. A quick glance around the stable told him that she was nowhere to be found._

 _Her horse was still nestled in his stall, so she couldn't have gone far…_

 _Or perhaps she'd gone_ back _to the desert, where her horse_ couldn't _go… she_ was _quite close to Urbosa…_

 _Link darted around the stable, asking everyone he saw, and concluded that she had, indeed, headed into the desert around noon. Alone._

 _Gritting his teeth, he charged after her, away from the stables, catching only a few words on the wind as he departed._

" _Strangest hangover I've ever seen…"_

 _Anger burned in his veins at the words. He could guess what had happened—the Princess had told the stable folk he'd gotten drunk._ Not enough that she has to trick me into drinking some crazy concoction—she has to ruin my reputation, too.

 _Barely half a minute had gone by before he emerged into the full wrath of the desert sun, feet slipping and sliding in the sand. Fuelled by the energy the Princess' drink had given him he sprinted onwards, undeterred by the heat, fuelled by determination, fear, and shame._

 _If anything happened to her…_

 _He would have failed her entirely, as a guardian, and as a friend… even though she certainly didn't think of him as such._

 _The sun slipped closer to the horizon. It was only when the orange glow of sunset washed over the desert that he finally caught sight of her, silhouetted by the setting sun. But something was wrong—she fell, and standing before her were two Yiga assassins, scythes glittering in the evening light._

No! _The effects of the milk concoction were wearing thin, but Link forced himself to put on one final burst of speed, diving the last few yards towards her in time to deflect a third Yiga from splitting the Princess' skull. Breathless, he vaulted in front of her, standing between her and her assailants. Relief coursed through his soul… she was unharmed… she was safe…_

* * *

He heard the twang of a bowstring, and white-hot agony erupted in his chest from behind, sending him stumbling forward with a startled cry of pain, brutally wrenched from memory back to reality.

He looked down at himself, teeth clenched in shaking pain, and was stunned to find a bloodied arrowhead protruding just beneath his sternum. His breath stilled at the sight and his vision wavered as pain shuddered through him.

"Link!" a woman exclaimed. It wasn't the Princess. He looked up, quivering at the agony splitting him open, and saw Khana in bonds, struggling fiercely against the two Yiga holding her back.

"Kh-Khana," he coughed out, groaning and doubling over at the sudden flare of pain that followed.

"You can't kill him, Ohnga!" Khana spat. "Listen to me—we were wrong about him, about _everything!_ Khoga is misguided—"

One of the Yiga at her side slapped her across the cheek, leaving behind an oozing cut. "That's enough, little sister. You will not disrespect Master Khoga in this way. But you needn't worry—we won't kill this whelp just yet." She struck Khana again, and Link took a step forward, trying to go to his friend's aid, but his knees buckled and he collapsed painfully on the stone, doubled over in pain.

He coughed again; this time drops of blood splattered to the ground from his mouth. Closing his eyes, he curled his arms around his sweaty torso in a feeble attempt to stem the bleeding and ease the pain. His senses were fading in and out; he could barely hear Khana's desperate shouts and her sister's calm responses, could barely see her vehement struggles against her captors… But he heard heavy footsteps treading behind him, felt a thick hand grip the back of his neck, heard a stern, masculine voice growl, "On your feet, Champion."

Link inhaled deeply, not seeing much point in resisting—besides, if he couldn't stand, he couldn't fight. Gasping at the agony, shuddering from the strain, he willed himself to obey and rise to his feet.

Then he snatched his scimitar from its sheath and whirled around, teeth clenched in desperate rage, and stabbed at the massive Yiga blademaster behind him. With a disgusting squelching sound the weapon sank hilt-deep into the assassin's chest; gurgling on his own blood the man collapsed in a dying puddle.

An angry snarl sounded from behind; Link turned to see a second blademaster lunging at him, slamming into his side and smashing him downwards. There was a vile sound of tearing flesh and a scream of anguish escaped his throat as the pain in his chest suddenly tripled.

Choking fro breath, he dared to raise his head enough to glance down at his chest—his heart nearly stopped when he saw the second arrowhead mere inches from the first, covered in slick blood. A hoarse whimper escaped his throat and he closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the ground. The pain was utterly paralyzing. _There were two arrows the whole time,_ he realized groggily, remembering that the Yiga tended to favor duplex bows. _One just didn't go… all the way… through…_

Dimly he could hear Khana shouting his name, but his senses were swiftly fading away, engulfed, by the all-powerful pain burning in his chest. "Khana…" he croaked out one last time before darkness took him...


	12. Chapter 12

**12\. Captured by the Yiga Clan**

Khana watched the hero fall, and her heart nearly burst from her chest. But a heavy canvas bag was jerked over her head (a pointless gesture, as she could have found the Yiga base in her sleep) and she saw no more.

"You said you wouldn't kill him!" she roared, struggling to keep her flying emotions under control. _He's just unconscious, right? He can't be dead—he_ can't _be dead!_

But her sister merely laughed darkly. "Poor, weak Khana," Ohnga chuckled. "Caught off guard by a handsome face. We warned you about that—don't you remember?"

Khana's face flushed, though of course her sister couldn't see. Desperate tears watered in her eyes; Link was fathoms more than a handsome face.

But of course, Ohnga and the others wouldn't see it that way. Their minds had been poisoned by Khoga.

She felt Ohnga and her companion leasing her forward by her bound wrists and a thick cord attached to the hood over her head, uncomfortably tight around her neck. Someone else, someone with a large hand, gripped her shoulder and steered her over the uneven rocky ground. Unnecessary discomfort that, she now realized, was meant to remind her that she no longer had control of her fate.

A cold, empty ache settled into her heart at the thought. _I'm alone,_ she realized numbly. Her sister, turned against her. Her Clan—her family in all but blood—misguided though they were, rejected her. And Link… he could have died by now, for all she knew. But even if he lived, would he forgive her the choices she had made? She'd seen the pain in his eyes when she'd told him—along with a grim, miserable acceptance.

Tears burned in her eyes, and she walked onward unresisting. She'd dealt him a grievous emotional wound, if his reaction had been any indication. _How could he forgive me?_ Why _would he?_

Bitter despair rose like cold bile in her throat. If through some miracle they made it out alive, he would cast her aside and face Ganon alone. _Alone._ Khana bit her lip; he would feel so lost, with his barely-functioning memory, alone without friends, without companions (other than Mist)... no one to watch his back, to tend his wounds, to comfort him after his nightmares…

A choked sob— _I've failed you,_ Khana mourned. _I've lost you..._

* * *

Cold stone against his toes. Cold iron, a round pole, forcing his spine uncomfortably straight. A burn in his shoulders, an ache at his elbows, numb pulsing in his hands, bound by cold iron above his head.

Torches. He could smell the smoke; as his eyesight slowly returned he could see their orange, flickering glow, the only light in the thick, musky darkness.

He was in a small dungeon cell that looked more like a cage, with its thick wooden bars overlooking a large, equally dark room filled with crates and jewels and… bananas?

 _The Yiga Clan hideout,_ he realized with a shudder. The memories were coming back to him now—the ambush, the arrows fired into his back, and Khana—Khana captured? Khana fighting the Yiga?

 _She said that she was one of the Yiga,_ he remembered. _Was. Not_ is. _Was she telling the truth? Did she really change?_

Hope swelled bright within his chest. It was more than possible, judging by the way she'd acted towards him ever since he'd met her, and by the ferocity with which she had struggled against her Yiga captors, even gaining a nasty-looking cut beneath her eye when her sister struck her.

Sudden fear closed around his heart, freezing the hope. What did the Yiga Clan do to traitors? What would happen to her?

 _I have to get free,_ Link thought, teeth clenched. _I have to find her!_

He tugged at the iron cuffs holding his wrists in place above his head. There was a metal bar between them, keeping him from bringing his hands together and effectively preventing him from trying to pick the lock. _Huh. I mean, it's not as if I have anything to pick locks with, or know how to pick a lock in the first place… or maybe I_ do _know, and I've just forgotten…_

A shudder trickled down his back as the familiar sensation of yawning emptiness came to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the ever-present gaps in who he was. _No. Don't think about that now. Think of something else._

Breathing deeply, trying to calm his suddenly-racing heartbeat, he glanced down towards his feet; they were chained together, but not to the pole; he could move them easily if he wished.

It was then that he noticed two black scars on his chest, not far from each other—one small and round, the other more jagged. _I was shot,_ he remembered, his throat going suddenly dry. _One arrow pierced me all the way through—the other was shoved through when I hit the canyon wall._ But he felt no pain now.

Two more questions surfaced in his mind. _How long have I been unconscious? Why are those scars_ black?

It was not an infected-blood kind of black, or a dried-scab kind of black. It was as if the scar tissue itself had turned the color of charcoal.

"Shadow magic," a calm male voice murmured from the darkness. Link looked up to find a short, pot-bellied Yiga with golden ornaments on his mask standing in the corner, arms crossed.

"Who're you?"

The Yiga chuckled softly. " _I'll_ be asking the questions here, Hylian Champion. But as the courteous foe that I am, I suppose I'll explain a few things. Clearly you have several questions.

"We used shadow magic to heal your wounds—that is why they've turned black. You have a rather interesting scar on your forehead now, where that bruise was… I wonder if Khana will find that attractive."

Link jerked at the mention of her name, anger burning in his soul. "If you've harmed a single hair on her head…"

The Yiga chuckled again. "Don't worry about her. She's fine. Worried about _you,_ of course, and held under tight lock and key… but unharmed. You've been here for about a day."

Link frowned. _Powerful magic, then, to heal my wounds so fast…_

The Yiga snapped his fingers; two burly Yiga blademasters appeared amidst a brief orange glow, muscles bulging beneath their uniforms.

The first, more out-of-shape Yiga gave a slight laugh, a brief "hm-hm" of amusement. "I am Master Khoga, Link. And I must say, I'm rather… _disappointed_ by you. The Hylian Champion… I'd heard of you, of course, but I didn't think _you_ were _him_ when I first saw you a century ago. I'd assumed you were that broad golden-haired knight standing next to the king— _he_ would have been a formidable foe."

Link swallowed tightly, forcing his face into a determined, angry mask, while inside he felt as if he'd had the air pounded from his lungs. _My father. He who pushed me into this path—or at least, who pushed me to become a knight._ He had no memories of a man standing next to the King, but he knew in his bones that Khoga was talking about his father.

"What do they see in you?" Khoga chuckled. "The Sheikah, the Master Sword, the Goddesses, Khana… why did they choose _you,_ of all people?"

Link tried to keep his features impassive. _I've never known the answer to that._

Khoga shook his head thoughtfully. "You're physically strong, boy; that much is clear. But I've seen stronger.

"They say you're good, boy; I've noticed that you have a soft spot for those in trouble. But you're not perfect—not as perfect as Khana and everyone else seem to believe. You've lost your memories… you don't know who you are, and that makes you weak.

"You're brave, boy; you fight without fear for yourself, and you do what you think is necessary to bring about the 'greater good' you believe in. But every other man and woman who fought the Calamity and who even know face the Divine Beasts… they're just as brave as you.

"So there must be something else about you," Khoga mused, scratching his chin. "I want to know what that is… and how I can use it to aid Calamity Ganon's return. You would be a powerful ally, Hylian Champion… eventually."

Khoga turned to his two henchmen. "You know what to do. Tell me what you find."

And he vanished, leaving behind a fading orange glow and several crimson sparks.

"Alright," one of the two blademasters sighed. "Khoga may've been all fancy titles and manners, but that doesn't matter so much to us. In my eyes, you're just a scrawny little brat."

The Yiga suddenly reminded Link of a dark, gray-feathered Rito with green eyes. He said nothing, and the other blademaster jotted something down on a notepad— _Where'd he get that?_ —and the first Yiga cleared his throat.

"Did Khana save your life and rescue you from a Gerudo prison?"

Link hesitated, debating which answer would be more likely keep her safe. "No."

The man slammed his fist into Link's stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. Link grit his teeth, biting back a pained cry, his sides aching from the force of the blow.

"Are you quite certain?" the Yiga asked calmly.

Link glared at him. Would Khana's punishment be less severe if he lied? If he told them she had been faithful to the Yiga Clan? He certainly hoped so. "She—she tried to kill me," he wheezed. "She's an—an assassin—"

"As we trained her to be," the Yiga growled. He glanced at his partner, who once again scribbled something down. Then he continued, "You are trying to reclaim the Divine Beasts and unite the races of Hyrule?"

Link prayed to Farore that his face didn't betray the shock he felt. _They_ know? _Is the plan_ that _obvious?_ He knew the Yiga had been watching him, and he _had_ traveled from Impa to Zora's Domain to Gerudo Desert… perhaps it wouldn't take too much to guess his course of action… "Of course not," he lied, hoping that he sounded convincing. "We couldn't pull off a united attack a century ago—who's to say we could do it now?" He stopped talking quickly. They wouldn't expect him to reveal the 'plan' so easily.

Without warning the Yiga lunged forward, slamming his fists into Link's chest, stomach, and shoulders, one fist after the other in a painful rhythm—left, right, left, right, finally finishing with a direct hit to the face, sending Link's head crashing back into the iron pole behind him. His vision swam, blurred with black specks; his bruised lungs heaved, struggling to fill themselves with air once more as blinding pain burned over the back of his head. Blood dripped from his nose.

"You lied," the Yiga chuckled darkly, "about everything. "It's in your eyes. Let's hear the truth, alright?" He raised a knife with a dulled, serrated edge, and stepped forward again.

Link inhaled deeply. _No fear,_ he told himself, keeping his features locked in passive calm. _No fear—!_

* * *

 _One… Arrgh! Two… nngh… Th-three—_

Khoga heard heavy footsteps drawing near. He gulped. "Ninety-eight," he panted, struggling to push himself up again. "Ninety… nine…"

"Master Khoga," murmured Algahn's respectful voice. "I've finished the report."

Twenty-four hours had gone by since Khoga first assigned Algahn and Orkaal to break and analyze the Hylian Champion. Khoga was pleased that it had taken this long—the boy had some spirit. "Go on," he wheezed, getting to his feet.

Algahn cleared his throat. "He's fiercely loyal," he began. "Clearly he knew that _we_ knew how Khana betrayed us, but he lied to protect her. He believes the Sheikah to be his allies; he would not confirm what Dorian told us about their plans and tried to convince us of different plans—but persuasion and speaking and charisma in general are certainly not his strengths. I doubt he's ever been entirely comfortable with communication in general; you can see it in his eyes. But he's willing to lie to protect his friends.

"Words hurt him. Not about his appearance, or anything like that—about his worthiness, and his abilities. He doesn't know why he was chosen any more than we do, master… and he's keenly aware of that fact.

"We presented him with several temptations as well—we offered him money, food, a home, the best horse… even friendship and family, if he were to join us and reject the Sheikah and their foolish plan. But he denied them all—he doesn't trust us or want our support."

Khoga tried to quell the bitter sinking in his heart. "Were you able to get to him at all?" he demanded.

Algahn nodded. "He weakened when he told him we wouldn't make him fight for us, that he could live out the rest of his life in peace." He paused. "Master, he did not want to be a warrior, even before the Shrine of Resurrection. That much is obvious. He longs for peace. A slow life. Perhaps in the countryside, with animals—most likely horses; when we showed him what we'd done to his mare, there were tears in his eyes and he pulled at his bonds until he bled."

Khoga stepped closer eagerly. "Did he give in? Will he join us?"

Algahn hung his head. "He said that there was no way for us to give him peace. He believes that if Ganon returns there will always be chaos and violence, death and destruction. And… he would never conquer the guilt in his soul."

Khoga sighed, rubbing his temples. "He believes that stopping Ganon is the right thing to do. He's too set in his opinions of right and wrong to listen to us."

Algahn nodded grimly. "He'll never join us."

Khoga's eyes narrowed. "He _will_ join us," he protested darkly. "He'll help us bring about Ganon's return; he will serve the Yiga Clan and fight for us. Perhaps one day he _will_ eliminate Gaonon on my command, and through his actions the entire kingdom will fall beneath the eye of the Yiga. And we will have our revenge on the Hylians, and the Sheikah, who cast us aside like a banana peel."

"Master…"

Khoga nodded vehemently. "Break him down, Algahn. I want to see if the agony of shadow sacrifice will change his mind."

Algahn blanched. "Master, we've been beating him all day—will he survive the spell?"

Khoga grinned. "He's the Hylian Champion, and chosen of the Master Sword—I don't think his beloved Goddesses will let him die here."

"Yes, Master," Algahn bowed. "I will prepare the altar." He turned to leave.

"Don't heal the wounds he gained today," Khoga warned as the blademaster reached the door. "We want to cause pain and weaken his will; it'll be easier for us if he's already injured."

Algahn dipped his head in acquiescence and the door slipped closed behind him.

Khoga rubbed his chin thoughtfully. _We'll have Khana watch,_ he decided. _She clearly cares for him—when she sees him fall, her trust in us and in me will be restored. And it'll be a fitting punishment for her insubordinate actions as well…_

* * *

Khana paced anxiously in a dark basement cell, her thoughts in a twist. _Link… Link… Link…_ She couldn't think straight out of fear for him; with each second that passed, his chances for survival decayed and sputtered and died. He could be dead by now. Especially with those two devastating arrow wounds. And _especially_ if Khoga was torturing him. _Nayru's love… I'm so sorry for everything! Please don't be dead—please, or I might do something rash—_

A sudden idea floated into her mind, like an unexpected strike of lightning on a faintly-overcast day.

The Gash.

She'd never dared to travel through it, not without Khoga's instruction… but she doubted he would ever teach her now.

 _But if I could use it as a portal, I could find Link and get us both out of here,_ she realized, ceasing her pacing. _It's the only way._

 _Which means I need to teach myself._

It would be dangerous. _But what choice do I have?_

Khana inhaled deeply. She glanced around; not finding any trace of surveillance, she sucked in another steadying breath and reached into the Gash.

And then she stepped inside.


	13. Chapter 13

**13\. In The Act**

Link hung in his chains, exhausted. Pain arced across his limbs and torso; blood seeped sluggishly from whiplashes and multiple shallow cuts on his arms, stomach, and thighs from where the Yiga blademaster had sawed mercilessly into his flesh with his dull knife. There were bruises, too, swollen lumps across his chest and back, but very few on his arms, and only one on his face.

The Yiga wanted him conscious, aware of the pain they inflicted upon him.

And they didn't want him disabled—no attempts were made to cripple him by breaking his arms or legs. No; they wanted him alive. And they wanted him, as Khoga said, to join them.

 _Not in a million years,_ Link thought angrily, but his heart burned. It was selfish, he knew, but… he'd never wanted this. Never wanted this life of violence. Of pain, and fear. He could not remember why he'd been chosen, what reason had been given to him as he pulled the Master Sword. Or after—he didn't remember that, either. But he was certain that his father had been part of it. Had wanted him to end up a soldier. A killer.

He was frightened by how nearly he'd given in to the Yiga when they offered him a life of peace—exactly what he wanted, more than anything. But the thought of what they'd done to Mist, what they might be doing to Khana… it was too much. He knew then that he could never join the Yiga, no matter what they offered.

And besides that, they couldn't have been telling the truth. Calamity Ganon would _destroy_ Hyrule. He'd hiked through Hyrule Field, seen the charred ruins of villages—of homes and businesses, where families had once lived out peaceful, happy lives.

 _I might not be able to live out a peaceful life for myself,_ he'd realized in that moment, _but I can ensure that others have that opportunity. By destroying Ganon and those who fight for him._

 _And I can't do that from a Yiga torture chamber._

Link swallowed thickly, his mind racing. _Alright. First I have to get out of this cell. Then I need to find Mist and Khana and get us all out of here._ With _the Thunderhelm._

Mist… his beloved little mare. Stubbornly loyal, affectionate, brave horse… Tears burned in his eyes as he remembered the sight of her, his first true friend… red whiplashes streaked across her lovely silvery coat, her proud head hanging low, eyes dull with exhaustion and pain. And Khana—he felt sick at the thought of her bearing the brunt of the Yiga Clan's wrath; he would endure whatever tortures the Yiga threw at him just as long as they didn't hurt Khana but he had no way to guarantee that…

Determination burned in his veins. He tugged at the chains around his wrists, ignoring the pain arcing through his chafed skin, worn down from his previous attempts. _Think. This isn't helping anyone. Think!_

He closed his eyes, breathing soft and slow, and squeezed the fingers of his right hand together. Then, carefully, he pulled his arm straight down.

The rough chains scraped painfully at his knuckles, impossibly tight, squeezing the blood from his fingers, but his hand came free from its bonds. Invigorated by his success, he forced his other hands free, then bent to work at his feet. But the chains would not slip over his heels and ankles so easily. Gritting his teeth together, frustrated, he straightened, wincing at the painful stiffness in his back and shoulders. _I'll just have to be more cautious._

 _Right, then… now for getting out of this cage._

There was no door that he could see—the Yiga came and went by using their shadow magic to appear and disappear. And he certainly couldn't do that.

 _If I had my Sheikah Slate…_ The bomb rune would easily break apart the wooden bars. But that, and his weapons, had of course been taken by the time he'd first awakened.

 _Alright… but I'm small; perhaps I can…_ He approached the bars, taking small, slow steps so as not to trip over or rattle the chains about his ankles (he could see a Yiga guard down below, within earshot), until he was close enough to the bars to see the dark crimson lines between them, transparent, twisting slightly as if stirred by a puff of wind.

 _Shadow magic,_ Link winced. _Probably a trap._

He glanced down at himself, looking at the whiplashes and cuts all down his torso. And at the two dark shadow scars where the arrows had pierced him. _I wonder…_

Wincing at the pain in his arms and shoulders, he returned to the pole in the center of the room and reached up to the shackles fastened there, unwinding the knob around the backside of the pole, keeping them in place. It was tightly-fastened; he wouldn't have been able to loosen it with his hands still bound. _Which was the whole point, I suppose…_

Shackles in hand, he knelt before two of the bars; holding his breath in anticipation, he placed the iron cuffs between them; the shadow magic flickered, sputtered, and melted slowly away from the top of the bars, drawn down to the iron as if it were magnetic.

Link watched anxiously; he knew nothing about shadow magic except that it had the ability to heal. And possibly teleport. _So how do the Yiga control it? Not all of them are pure Sheikah—Khana isn't; she's Hylian, like me. Could_ I _use it, then?_

There was only one way to find out. Biting his lip, he reached down and stuck his finger into the glowing red haze around the iron shackles. It was warm and tingly, sending numb vibrations through his hand. Link grit his teeth, eyes narrowed in concentration. _Okay. Now what?_

"Heal me," he commanded, staring intently at the gleaming red haze now snaking up his arm. " _Heal me."_

His heart pounded faster; sweat dripped down his brow. The pain of his wounds burned hotter. He ground his teeth together, forcing his focus to hone in on the angry red shadow magic. " _Heal,"_ he panted, his breaths growing labored. " _Heal!"_

His arm shook with fatigue, and the peculiar numb vibrations travelled the length of his body, sending violent shudders down his spine. A groan escaped his lips—it wasn't working; he couldn't bend it to his will—but Mist—Khana!—"Heal… me…" Link grunted, bathed in sweat; in the torchlight his bare torso gleamed. His thoughts grew muddled and fuzzy, blackness munching at the corners of his vision, weakness biting off the ends of his thoughts.

But he could see the whiplashes down his chest beginning to close, fading into dark, shadowy scars. _Yes! It's working!_

He waited a few moments more; dark gray lines replaced many of the angry red streaks across his chest, arms, and legs; then when he felt on the brink of collapse he let go, falling down to his side with a heavy sigh. _Alright. A little rest. Then I'm out of here._

Blackness swallowed him whole.

* * *

His body was stiff and sore when he awakened later; it had been—minutes? Hours?

He couldn't tell. It was still just as dark and smoky as it had been when he'd lost consciousness.

Link glanced down at himself; the unfamiliar sight of shadowy scars crossing over several of the scars he'd gained a century earlier was unnerving and frankly a bit disgusting—but the pain was gone. That was the important thing.

Quickly he got to his feet, eyes narrowed as he studied the room below. _How much time do I have before someone comes back for me?_ It could be hours. Or it could be a matter of seconds. _No way to know for sure._

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to make himself as thin as possible (although, truthfully, he was already as thin as he was going to get). Then he inched through the gap between bars, sliding his feet carefully over the shackles still resting on the ground, glowing an angry red. If he'd been any taller, or any burlier, he wouldn't have fit through the bars or on the narrow ledge just outside. _Din, give me strength,_ he begged, biting his lip as he balanced precariously.

There was another stack of crates nearby. Link held his breath, bending down in a preparatory crouch, and lunged across the gap, landing lightly on his toes. A quick furtive glance around the room told him that no one seemed to have heard him; the one guard whose torch he could see was several stacks of crates away, whistling a cheery tune.

Link grit his teeth, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. He looked around again, this time searching for the nearest doorway. There were two that he could see right from the start, but he had no idea where either would take him. _Should've thought this part through a little better._

The guard was coming closer to him. As swiftly as he silently could he dropped down, flat on his stomach, so that if the man just happened to look up, he wouldn't see Link.

 _So what now?_ He muttered a prayer to Nayru, pleading for a bolt of inspiration to hit, to show him which path to take. _Gotta find Mist. Gotta find Khana. Gotta get us out of here!_

The guard was humming a soft tune as he meandered between stacks of crates. Link closed his eyes, focusing on the sound; when it moved farther away he would know it was safe to move. But in blocking out what mere eyes could see, his sensitive Hylian ears caught another sound - the sound of a woman shouting. From the distance he couldn't tell who, exactly, it was, but he hoped it was Khana.

Slowly he tilted his head towards one of the doorways, and the desperate cries grew softer; he turned his head the other way, and the sounds were slightly amplified. _That way, then._

The humming was moving away, towards the door he'd deigned not to go through. Link lifted himself up to his knees and crawled softly towards the edge; after double-checking that the guard wasn't looking his way he dropped from the top of the crates, landing in a jarring crouch on the stone ground and biting back a grunt of pain—nothing had broken, thank Farore, but his left ankle would be sore for a few moments at least.

Hastily he got to his feet, crouching low to the ground and stealthily sliding forwards, creeping through the shadows of the crates. The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably; he had the suspicion that someone was watching him… but when he turned around, no one was there. He was alone. And the humming guard was still on the other side of the room.

Shaking off the nagging sensation he slithered under banners bearing the blood-red Yiga eye until he reached the doorway he'd chosen; it branched off into a tall, narrow corridor leading both left and right. His shoulders slumped; he glanced back over his shoulder once again. _Still alone. But which way?_

Closing his eyes, straining his ears, he heard an angry feminine shout and a hearty guffaw in response from the tunnel to his right. _Not much to go off of. But I'll take it._

If one person was shouting and the other merely laughed at her in response… it could be a Yiga tormenting his prisoner. _That's exactly the cruel sort of thing they would do._ Or at least, he hoped it was. If not, he was doomed.

As he crept closer, he could tell that the woman doing all the shouting wasn't Khana, but was still very much a prisoner. _And a prisoner of the Yiga Clan might be able to help me._ He didn't turn back.

"You're fools, all of you!" the woman insisted. "When they find me missing, Buliara and Captain Teake will come after you with an army of our finest warriors! They will _destroy_ this place, and they will destroy _you!_ For your own sake, you'd better let me go right now!"

The Yiga guarding her laughed again. "Can't decide which is dumber," he choked between bouts of mirth. "The notion that the Gerudo could topple the Yiga, or that they'd actually come looking for _you!_ I—I mean, you literally _walked_ into our trap! If those people you say are after us are the same ones who decided to make _you_ a soldier—ha!" He erupted into another fit of giggles.

Link frowned, crouched just beyond the open doorway leading to the woman's prison chamber; the guard's words struck a chord of memory in his mind.

 _The Gerudo were saying something about a soldier who'd gone missing in search of the Yiga Clan and the Thunderhelm…_

 _Barta._

Holding his breath, he peered around the corner. In a cage-like cell much smaller than his had been sat Barta, arms crossed defiantly. Holding a torch with one hand and his stomach with the other, a Yiga blademaster doubled over, howling with glee; hanging from his belt was a ring of keys and a long, sheathed sword. There were tears on Barta's cheeks.

 _Okay. I dispatch the guard, get the key, fre Barta, and hope she knows her way around her better than I do so we can get out and find Khana and Mist. And the Thunderhelm, if possible._

Hunched low over the ground, blood burning with determination, he crept into the room. _You only get one shot at this. Don't mess it up._

As he approached he looked around for something, anything, to use as a weapon. But the room was bare save for a few banners and bananas. And the banners were high, out of his reach; if he tried to get one down the guard would surely notice and run him through. And bananas were not weapons.

Which left the guard's torch or his sword, which hung safely sheathed at his waist.

Link continued onward, bare feet sliding silently over stone. It was not a very large room; in a matter of moments he was a mere few feet from the giggling Yiga blademaster; there was no doubt in his mind that Barta could see him, but clearly she was smart enough to go on shouting as she had before, spouting threats and glaring indolently up at her guard.

Link's heart hammered, and he drew himself to his full height—at least a foot shorter than the Yiga. Then he darted forward and snatched the sheathed weapon, yanking it from the guards belt. Before the man had time to cry out in surprise he tore the weapon free and plunged it through the Yiga's chest even as he was turning to face him. With a startled, pained groan, the man crumpled, quickly dying on the ground.

Link released a shaky breath, nausea squeezing his gut. _I killed a man. Not a bokoblin, or a lizalfos, or a moblin—a man._

He'd done it at least once before, to save the Princess, and it had been a Yiga then, too, but that didn't make it any better. In fact, it made him feel worse. _I've killed a human being at least twice! What… what kind of_ monster _am I?!_

"Aren't you going to set me free?" the caged Barta asked eagerly, gripping the bars.

Link sank to his knees, cold sweat trickling down his back. He'd forgotten how to breathe; his heart hammered hard in his chest and he shuddered, overwhelmed by icy emptiness and nauseating disgust. A tear burned in his eye; embarrassed, he tried to will it away.

"Hey… are you alright?" Barta leaned forward, pressing her face between the bars, eyes wide with concern.

"Killing," Link choked out, scrunching his eyes shut. "I—I have to… it's all I've ever been told—but I… I wish—wish I could just— _stop…"_

Barta blinked slowly. "I get that," she told him softly. "I was never really cut out to be a soldier, but… here I am, anyway." She chuckled humorlessly. "I guess that's the struggle with life, isn't it? Do we live for ourselves, or do our lives belong to others? Makes you wonder what you believe in."

Link inhaled deeply, the beginnings of calm and courage stirring in his heart. _What I believe in… what do I believe in?_

 _Peace._

In a split second the image of a hundred years flashed through his mind—a hundred years without bloodshed; a lifetime spent out in the wild, the wind ruffling his hair as the birds greeted his ears with sweet music and the sun shimmered down bringing life and warmth and light to a cold world. He saw sprawling green meadows soft and aglow with tiny insects fluttering and butterflies hovering just over the ground, over a patch of pink and white wildflowers. He saw people, children, teenagers, adults, and the elderly, sitting down to family meals together, basking in love as bright as the sun; he saw rain and sky and clouds and snow, green new sprouts and pale pink blossoms thriving on the trees giving way to dark orange and red leaves that fell to the ground buried by snow and then the whole cycle started over again, life, an endless round that went on and on and on…

He opened his eyes. It wasn't a memory. But it was a dream— _his_ dream, the deepest desire of his heart. _And I will do anything to achieve that dream,_ he realized, _which is why I was chosen. I think._

He sucked in a deep breath, invigorated. "I believe in peace," he murmured, getting to his feet. He wiped the Yiga's blade clean on the dead man's back and fastened it instead around his waist. "But in order to achieve that… I must fight." His voice was grim, resolute. The difficulty of the task ahead of him would make victory, and the years that followed, that much more rewarding.

He tugged the key free from the guard's belt and unlocked the small cell door, carefully helping the Gerudo vai out into the open.

"Thank you," she smiled, holding out her hand. "I'm—"

"Barta," Link finished with a nod. "Captain Teake told us." _Sort of._ "My name is Link." He shook her hand politely, but his thoughts quickly turned elsewhere, and a knot of stress bloomed between his shoulder blades. "Look—do you know where they'll be keeping their other prisoners? My friends—" A lump lodged in his throat and he looked away, images crowding his mind—red lashes on a silvery coat; violet eyes wide with desperation.

"I'm sorry," Barta said, wringing her hands. "I was blindfolded when they took me in—I don't even know the way out!"

A yawning pit of hopelessness gaped in Link's stomach, and he tried to ignore it, but the reality of their situation was difficult to ignore.

"But you know the way, right?" Barta pressed, a hint of despair entering her voice.

 _Not a clue,_ Link thought, swallowing tightly. He said nothing, trying to think, offering a silent, frantic plea up to the Goddesses—Hylia, Din, Nayru, and Farore, for surely without divine interference it was an impossible task.

"You don't know the way," Barta realized, her eyes widening with fear.

Link grit his teeth, standing tall and drawing on what strength he had left. "No," he confessed. "But we'll manage. Let's go."

"Okay," she squeaked, uncertainty written plainly across her features. Link turned away quickly lest her fear spread to him as well, beckoning her back the way he'd come; he slid the Yiga blade from its sheath and held it low at his side as they crept down the darkened hall. Once again he felt a shiver trickle down his back, certain that somewhere in the shadows he was being watched, but cautiously he looked over his shoulder and ahead down the corridor—he and Barta were alone. And Barta wasn't even looking at him; she was creeping along beside him, glancing furtively over her shoulder as if she expected to be followed. _But there's no one else here. We're alone._

It was suspicious, though, just how few guards he'd encountered. Two. _So where are all the others?_

They reached the square door that led back to the storage room his cell had been built over. Slowly Link peered around the corner, seeing that the lone guard in there was on the other side of the room, still humming cheerfully, he darted low across the opening to the shadows on the other side, Barta hot on his heels.

"So that's not the way out?" she whispered.

 _I don't know._ "It's where they kept me," he answered, pressing the heel of his hand to his temples, trying to think. "And I… I don't think they'd put me anywhere close to the way out. So my guess is that _that_ way leads deeper into the Yiga hideout, not out." _But maybe this hallway will take us out._ Or if the Yiga hideout was symmetrical, they would find another cell at the end of his hall, to match Barta's cell. And perhaps Mist or Khana would be waiting for them there.

He had no idea.

"This way," he muttered, trying to sound confident, creeping along with his shoulder blades brushing against the wall, feelt sliding smoothly over bare, cold stone.

"Link?"

He tensed in surprise, whirling towards the voice. Khana was there, standing right in front of him, unharmed but looking worried, with her brows drawn together and her eyes narrowed.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, certain that he was imagining things. She wasn't real, couldn't be real, unless she'd somehow appeared out of thin air like the other Yiga had done—but if she could do that, why hadn't she escaped already?

"You're not imagining this," Barta assured him, though confusion tinted her voice.

Khana reached out to him, resting her hand on his shoulder, warm an solid. Concern and anger burned in her violet eyes as she studied his body, taking in the sight of the shadowy scars all across his skin. "Those monsters," she growled, looking away, shame creasing her brow. "Link, I… I'm so sorry; we never should have come here, I—"

The Yiga sword clattered to the ground, falling free from his grasp, and he wrapped her in a tight embrace, and almost before the thought had crossed his mind he was kissing her; unable to put words to the joy and relief coursing through his veins he channeled those feelings into the kiss; she melted into him, her arms around his neck; he could feel her tears—she was just as overwhelmed as he was—could feel the love, love that he realized he'd held for her for a while now but who knew how long she'd had those feelings; there was no doubt in his mind as she kissed him back that she loved him too; it was bliss, pure bliss, despite the ominous torchlit corridor and the possibility of a Yiga ambush—no, Khana was here, she was alive, he was in heaven—

Barta cleared her throat. "Er… this may not be the best time," she hinted awkwardly, an eyebrow raised.

Link raised his head, lips parting for a reply, but no words came. No, it wasn't the best time, and they still had to find Mist, but— "How did you escape?" he asked, rather breathlessly, turning back to Khana in his arms.

"The Gash," she answered softly, glancing uneasily around at the empty hallway before continuing even quieter. "It's like a space between space that the Yiga—originally the Sheikah—are able to access through our shadow magic. We can store objects in there that we can't carry on our person, or we can step inside and travel instantaneously and invisibly." She held up her left hand, which was missing a few fingernails, and Link noticed that half of her eyebrow was gone, too, as if it had somehow been erased. "They never taught me how to use it for travel, so I had to teach myself, and… I lost a few things along the way. But I think I have it figured out now, and I think I can take others with me—you, and Mist, and…?"

"I'm Barta," the tall Gerudo explained, eyeing Khana skeptically, as if she'd grown an extra head.

"Let's go, then," Link said, gripping Khana's hands. He didn't exactly understand, but he'd seen Khoga and several other Yiga, and now Khana, appear from nothingness. He was prepared to trust her.

"Alright," Khana murmured, releasing one of his hands to take hold of Barta's. Then she bit her lip, eyes narrowed in concentration, and took them each a step to the—to the right? Or was it Left? Up? Down?

A gray, crimson-tinged wispy veil dropped down over the corridor, and suddenly the walls seemed transparent; Link could see through them, could see Yiga on the other side, training or sitting down to a meal or sleeping—each of them were clearly highlighted with a bright orange glow, and each of them were motionless—frozen in time.

" _Mist,"_ Khana said, her voice warped and dim in the shadowy world. She took a light, leaping step forward, and where her foot came down Link saw the air ripple with shimmering orange light, striking a memory in his mind. _Just like a wizzrobe when it disappears,_ he realized. _Its footsteps are still visible, and they look exactly like that._ Perhaps, somehow, wizzrobes could access the Gash as well? _But wizzrobes don't travel instantaneously—maybe there's a way to get time to travel normally while in the Gash…_

It was amazing, a wonder of magic. And it would be incredibly helpful, if he could figure out to use it the way he'd used shadow magic to heal his wounds. _Impa might be able to teach me—she's Sheikah!_

Khana took them to a wall and he flinched, but they floated straight through, as if it never existed. Next to him Barta gaped in astonishment, looking back over her shoulder at the wall now behind them. " _Incredible!"_ she exclaimed happily, her voice wavering and undulating like the waves of the sea. Link nodded, agreeing, but he was hesitant to say anything out loud, wondering what it would feel like to have his voice so strangely distorted.

He scanned the glowing orange figures of the other living beings in the Yiga hideout, searching for one more equine in shape. _We've got to get her out of here!_

Khana found the little mare first, leading them step by step through the walls and down through the ground towards a long row of large cells; all but two were empty. Link's heart leapt when he saw Mist, her splotchy coat evident even through the distracting orange sheen the Gash had strewn over her; the other cell contained a lynel, but as it was heavily manacled he didn't waste any time worrying about it. Not when his dear friend was a mere few feet away, her head hanging low in misery and submission.

They appeared in the cell and Mist whinnied anxiously, raising her head in surprise and taking a small step forward when she saw who it was. There were ropes around her ankles limiting her movement, and two more ropes went from her halter to iron rings in the cell walls, holding her in place. Anger burned in Link's heart and he rushed to her side, tears once again pricking his eyes as he looked into her weary brown gaze, in which he was relieved to see a spark of determination still burning.

"We'll get you out," he promised, reaching for the sword at his waist.

But the blade was no longer there; belatedly he remembered dropping it when he'd gone to kiss Khana. Shaking his head, a faint smile playing at his lips, he worked at the knots binding the ropes to Mist's halter, hope burning bright in his soul. Barta and Khana worked gently at the ropes around the little mare's ankles, Barta a little hesitant, probably since she hadn't ever been around horses.

"M-maybe I should just keep watch," Barta protested, backing away. "She's… so much _bigger_ than a sand seal…"

"Alright," Khana sighed, finishing releasing the knot around Mist's left hind leg and following Barta to the cell door. "Here; take this. I assume you know what to do with it?"

"Of course," Barta huffed; Link glanced back over his shoulder to see Khana handing the Gerudo a wicked-looking scimitar. _From the Gash,_ he realized with a smile, letting one of the ropes fall to the ground and working on the next. Mist nudged him playfully, eyes glowing with affection.

"Good girl," he murmured, rubbing her nose before picking once more at the knot of the second rope around her halter.

A sudden low crackling, and the sound of several feet landing on the ground as if jumping from a few feet. All at once Barta screamed; Mist jerked her head back, eyes wide with surprise. And the sharp edge of a long blade pressed against the back of his neck.

"Not another move, Khana," purred Master Khoga, "or we'll give you your _hero,_ one finger at a time. We won't let you take our greatest asset so easily."

" _What?"_

Slowly, Link moved to turn around, trying to see, but a whip cracked through the air mercilessly close, smacking down on his bare shoulders.

"Stay where you are, _Champion,"_ an unfriendly voice sneered behind him as fresh hot blood and searing pain dripped down his back. Mist let out a strained cry that could only be described as a whimper; she backed away the half-step that she could, eyes wide and white with fear. Breathing hard, Link reached out a shaking hand, trying to offer comfort, but the whip cracked again and this time he couldn't bit back a cry of pain as he stumbled forward half a step from the force of the blow.

"If you do anything else to him I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" Khoga asked, amusement oily in his voice. "You do anything, and lives will be lost. Starting with the hero's little horse. Then our Gerudo friend." Barta whimpered. "And, if you continue to resist… well, we need the Champion alive, but you'll find there's a great deal of damage we can fix with shadow magic. I'm sure you saw our lynel just a few cells down; if you fail to comply, we'll let it gnaw on your beloved _hero_ for a while. It hasn't eaten in several days, I'm told…"

"You _devils,"_ she hissed, but her voice was broken and weak.

Link grit his teeth, anger and desperation surging through his veins, fuelled by the pain lacing across his shoulders. _We can still pull this off—we can still escape—right?_

He sucked in a deep breath of preparation and whirled around, catching the whip before it could fall, snatching the wrist of the guard holding the knife and twisting it brutally to the side, forcing the blade to fall. Link caught it and slashed the throat of a Yiga advancing on him— _He died fast; he didn't suffer—_ before turning to face the next several guards darting towards him. Blocking out the sounds of Khoga's furious yells, knife in one hand and whip in the other, he fought off the Yiga on both sides; the whip slashed through an eerie white mask, revealing a sliver of pale hair and angry blue eyes; a Yiga soldier staggered back with a howl of pain, clutching a deep wound across the bicep of his sword arm; then Link was at Khoga's side and he gripped his shoulder, levelling the bloodied knife to his throat. "Let us go," he growled, surprising himself by the cold vehemence in his voice. His insides burned as he realized he had, yet again, killed a man—but now was not the time to show weakness, not when Khana—

He did a double take, staring at her. Her arms were pinned to her side and her legs bound together and even her fingers were tightly bound, rendering her incapable of any movement whatsoever, let alone the subtle movements required to access the Gash. She resembled a mummy from the shoulders down, or perhaps a pirate's unwitting victim, wrapped in sturdy rope and chafing chains.

A quick glance around Mist's cell informed him that Barta's wrists and ankles were chained and the scimitar Khana had given her was held to her throat by a Yiga blademaster, although the blood staining his uniform on his forearm and thigh revealed that she'd at least managed to fight back.

Khoga chuckled, and Link increased pressure on the knife, piercing the leather of his uniform around his flabby neck.

"Let us go," Link insisted.

"Master…" one of the Yiga coughed, holding a hand to his bleeding throat. Link couldn't help the relief that flooded him at the realization that he hadn't killed the man.

Khoga merely chuckled again, taking a slight step to the right (or perhaps the left).

And disappearing.

And reappearing a moment later, crashing down on Link's shoulders and sending him tumbling to the ground with a low _oomph_ of surprise, the knife falling uselessly from his hand. Link quickly squirmed out from beneath the odious man's prodigious rear and tried to grab the knife but the other Yiga were on him now, both those he'd wounded and those that remained unharmed, grabbing, pulling at his arms, his legs, his hair, trying to hold him still—there were just too many of them, though he fought like a lynel, desperate and angry and afraid.

Iron shackles clamped down over his wrists, attached to heavy chains tightly held in someone's hands, then two more snapped around his biceps; one locked around his neck and yet another closed around his stomach— _They're not taking any chances this time! Gotta get out!_

Desperately he struggled, kicking and punching, trying to shake loose from the gloved hands snatching at his limbs, but there were too many of them, and—and—

And only one of him.

They'd taken Khana first, since she alone of the three of them could enter the Gash. Take down Khana, and the others couldn't disappear to safety. So she was rendered immobile, reduced to merely watching with tearfilled eyes, squirming uselessly against her bonds.

Barta was less of a concern; they'd imprisoned her so easily the first time. But she surprised them, landing a few good blows before they overpowered her and took her weapon; now they held her fast as she, too, struggled to break free as Link fought to save them all. But mere flesh and bone are not enough to break heavy iron.

Mist's hind legs were free but her forelegs were bound, preventing her from moving forward to aid her master. She whinnied shrilly, rearing her head back, prancing anxiously in place but unable to do anything else.

At last the Yiga shackled his ankles and his knees, but still they held onto him, and still he fought against them, sweat stinging in the fresh lashes on his shoulders.

"Enough!" Khoga barked; Link saw him holding a knife to Khana's throat. Saw a drop of blood. Fear dripped into his soul, cold and paralyzing. Khoga nodded. "This woman is a traitor to the Yiga Clan. She's alive only to ensure that you do as we want. The instant you cease to comply is her last moment alive. Do you understand?"

Link ground his teeth together, anger and helplessness scalding his soul. If Khana resisted, Link would be tortured. If Link resisted, Khana would be killed. Neither could win—the only way out was to bend to the will of the Yiga Clan.

"You—you disgusting pile of boko turds!" Khana growled, spitting in Khoga's face, though it merely dripped down his mask.

"You're running out of age-appropriate insults," Khoga huffed, yanking a handkerchief from out of thin air—from the Gash—and wiping his mask clean. "Isn't that hero of yours still a minor?" Then he struck Khana across the face; her head knocked against the iron wall at her back and she gasped, features clouding with pain. Pain that reverberated in Link's soul as he watched in agonizing helplessness.

"Leave her alone!" he demanded, straining against the shackles and the Yiga keeping him from running to her side.

Khoga approached him, head tilted to the side with intrigue. "Hmm… yes, you love her, don't you? I saw that revolting scene in the corridor. Is that what you call a kiss? C;early that's yet another skill you've forgotten—if indeed you ever knew how."

Link felt heat rise to his cheeks. "That hallway was empty," he growled, trying again to yank free. "You couldn't have seen—"

"One in the Gash cannot see others in the Gash unless they are connected by touch," Khoga said, smugly wagging his finger as if scolding a naughty child. "And even if two people are connected, the one opening the Gash must choose to take the other with him. And, as you've probably guessed, the Gash can be used for instantaneous travel, or simply for invisibility while time resumes its usual pace. We were there the entire time, arms linked, waiting for my signal to attack. But I wanted to see how far you would get first.

"I watched as you freed yourself and tried so clumsily to heal your wounds. Foolish boy; you have no Sheikah blood in you—the magic knows its masters, and you are not one of them." He snapped his fingers, and Link couldn't help the shout of anguish that jerked from his throat as the cuts and whiplashes he'd gained that day, wounds he thought he'd closed, burst open once more with blood and pain. He stumbled, gasping from the shock of it; the Yiga at his sides held him upright as Khana cried out in protest.

"Nevertheless, I was pleased by your resourcefulness, and the strength of your will," Khoga said cheerfully; Link could imagine a smirk beneath that hated mask. "Haven't you realized it yet? The questions, the notes… we've been testing you all day. This last was a test of your resourcefulness and your stealth, and you have passed—with flying colors! You escaped your prison, freed a prisoner, and killed one of my blademasters—and he didn't even realize what was happening until it was too late." Khoga's voice darkened, and he stepped nearer. "He was a good man, Link. A great warrior. He's gone now… but I've found someone to replace him, someone with even greater skills… someone to stand by my side as Ganon is released and the Yiga Clan brought to power, crushing the Sheikah and the Hylians beneath our feet in the wake of our great revenge."

He took a step closer. Dread shivered down Link's spine.

"Do you know who it is I've found?" Khoga asked with a slight ominous laugh. "Well… it's you, of course."

Link's eyes narrowed. "I'd never serve you," he growled, trying to keep his voice strong through the pain.

"Oh?" Khoga laughed. "What if we kill Khana?"

Link swallowed tightly, the taste of her lips lingering in his memory. Tears pricked her eyes. _The Goddesses won't have me make that choice… will they?_ His heart ached. His soul burned. And Khoga waited for an answer. _Forgive me, Khana._ "I love her," he tried to explain, looking over Khoga's shoulder into her violet eyes. She was calm. Accepting. She nodded; she knew what he was going to say. And agony twisted his heart. "I… I would do… _anything_ for her. But I will not—I can't put one life above thousands of others, who will die or live lives of slavery and torture if I help you. Khana would—" he swallowed tightly, a tear streaming down his cheek. _Din, give me strength._ "She would be blessed to live in the Sacred Realm, out of your reach forever. And the instant Ganon is destroyed and my task complete, I would join her there."

"You would kill yourself to join her," Khoga grumbled. Khana wept softly. "An utter waste of your life. Of your potential." He sighed heavily. "She lives. For now. Because I think if you saw her tortured, you would change your mind about helping us."

Link didn't meet the Yiga master's gaze. He couldn't. For if Khoga saw his face, he would know that he was right. _Hylia, Din, Nayru, and Farore,_ he pleaded in his heart and his mind, not knowing what else to do. _Please help us get out of this._

"Master Khoga," a female voice protested. "Kill my sister if you wish, and offer her that final mercy. But do not torture her, please, my master. I despise her actions, and her betrayal, as much as you do—if not more. I am furious with her. But I hope that she will, in time, remember your mercy, and your kindness—"

"Shut up Ohnga," Khana snapped. "He's none of those things, and you know it—"

"She is misguided," Ohnga pressed on, a hint of desperation entering her voice. "But she is family, Master—she is of the Clan. Please—do not harm her!"

Khoga half-turned away from Link. "She will suffer enough in coming hours," he muttered, and fear clenched Link's heart. "If everything goes to plan and our ritual is… successful… no other harm will come to her."

"Thank you, Master," Ohnga fell to her knees. Link's heart pounded furiously; panic threatened to overwhelm him. Khoga was planning some sort of ritual? And it meant that Khana would suffer?

Khoga waved her off. "Let's move this lot down to the moon chamber. The Gerudo, too. Keep that wretched mare here—better yet, turn her loose; she has no further value to us."

A heavy black cloth was bound over Link's eyes, and he saw no more.

* * *

 **Okay, so just a heads up... the next chapter will include a good deal of torture (NONE of it sexual!) so if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable I'll be posting a brief summary at the bottom of the chapter, so you know what happened without having to go into detail. Hope you enjoy, and have a great week (or two, depending on how long this next chapter takes to write)! ( :**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello! So just a heads-up again, lots of torture in this chapter; I'll put a summary at the bottom, but if you want to read at least part of the chapter (it's a long one) look for "eventually subsided" (for those of you on computers, Ctrl + F should work). Don't worry; this is the lowest point of the story - it can only go uphill from here!**

* * *

 **14\. Ancient Ritual**

 _The moon chamber._

Thousands of years old, blanketed in images carved into the stone, worn indecipherable by time, with a long, human-sized table in the center…

The Yiga had found it at the very bottom of a deep, cylindrical pit near the end of Karusa Valley. Falling in meant certain death, but they'd discovered a long, winding tunnel a few years ago leading all the way down to the ancient room at the pit's base.

And in that room, they'd also found notes scrawled upon scrolls of animal skin, detailed accounts of dark rituals and the most despicable uses for shadow magic.

Of course, Master Khoga hadn't used that word—despicable—to describe them. Holy, he'd said. Mystical. Powerful.

Khana had been to the moon chamber twice before. Hylians didn't usually join the Clan, and one of the reasons for that was the fact that they couldn't use shadow magic as naturally and easily as those with Sheikah heritage. So in the past, any Hylian who tried to join had been killed—there was no room for weakness in the Clan.

But Khoga had found a ceremony in the accounts taken from the moon chamber—a ceremony that transferred shadow magic from one person to another. In this instance, from a Yiga with magic to a Hylian without any. It was a simple ceremony, only an hour or so in duration, but the Hylians didn't always survive the sudden infusion of power into their blood.

On both occasions Khana had visited the moon chamber, it had been to witness the ceremony performed with Hylians who wanted to join the Clan. The first time, the woman had survived. The second time, the man had gone mad, cackling wildly, eyes wide and glowing as the power surged through his veins—it was too much for him. He dissolved into millions of angry glowing red sparks, taken away by the wind.

Khana had hated the room. Each time she'd been there, she'd felt that there was something off about it, something malicious that tingled up her spine, whispering of murder and blood and dark deeds untold.

Now she stood in the moon chamber, tightly bound hand and foot, mummified by rope and loops of chain, with burly blademasters on either side of her, gripping her shoulders. Her heart pounded angrily, leaping up her throat, as shivers of terror snaked their way up and down her spine.

Khoga had promised suffering for her. And he wanted Link on his side. And somehow that was connected.

 _Khoga didn't exactly promise not to torture me,_ she realized, her heart sick with dread. _But he did say that no harm would come to me beyond what happens in these next hours, so whatever happens, it won't be a permanent solution to get Link to do his will. If Link surrenders in the first place, that is._

 _He'd better not,_ she told herself, despite the nauseating anticipation squeezing her innards. She had not prayed to the Goddesses for a long time—years, in fact. But this night, with silver moonlight shining down through the deep pit above her… _Farore, give me courage,_ she pleaded.

Through the iron door leading to the tunnel beyond, three Yiga footsoldiers entered the room—her former comrades, though of course with their masks she couldn't recognize them. One man lit the four torches in the room, one at each corner of the table. Another wrapped chains around the table, to which were fastened manacles with thin, needle-like spikes on the inside. There were four of those—one at each corner.

The last Yiga poured a thick, foul-smelling liquid all across the table's surface, purple and terrible. "Bokoblin blood," the Yiga chuckled darkly at her inquisitive look.

Khana swallowed tightly, watching them complete the preparations. _Blood? But there was no monster blood in the other rituals—what's going on?!_ Her mouth was dry. Her heart thudded with terror. She wished that time would speed up, wished she could just get this awful thing over with, but instead time merely crawled along, feeding the dread churning in her stomach.

 _Be brave,_ she told herself. _Be brave._

The rattling of chains. She turned her head (the only part of her that could move with ease) and saw a blademaster leading Barta into the room, shackles around her wrists and ankles, a frightened look on her face. The Yiga chained her to the wall beside Khana, who tried to offer an encouraging smile. Barta grimaced in return.

The three footsoldiers left the room, but they were quickly replaced by seven burly Yiga entering the room, surrounding Link, who was wearing several sets of thick iron manacles across his body. He was naked but for a black loincloth hanging from his hips; every whiplash and bruise and cut he'd gained over the past twenty-four hours stood out clearly against his skin, dark and red, but at least they were no longer bleeding.

Master Khoga entered the room next, dressed in regal scarlet robes emblazoned with the Yiga eye instead of his usual bodysuit. In one hand he held a jeweled golden knife; swiftly he drew it across Link's back, drawing a startled gasp of pain from the young man's lips. Khana grit her teet, glaring at Khoga, but he ignored her. If he saw her at all.

"The boko blood," he snapped his fingers, and one of the soldiers hefted the bucket of bokoblin blood used to douse the table. Slowly they poured it over Link's head and it dripped down his skin, leaving dark violet streaks; Link gagged, coughing, squirming away from the man holding the bucket, and Khoga laughed. "Bind him."

But instead of taking him to join Barta and Khana on the wall, the men lifted him onto the table, forcing his arms high above his head and wrenching his legs apart, binding his wrists and ankles to each of the four corners of the table.

His face was pale with fear, but his blue eyes burned with resilient courage.

And Khana realized with a sickening jolt that she'd had it all wrong.

They were going to perform some eldritch ritual on Link. And she was meant to watch.

"Khoga, _don't you dare!"_ she roared, frantically struggling against her bonds, wriggling like a worm in her desperation.

"Shut her up," Khoga sighed, bathing the knife red with Link's blood in the bucket of monster blood. Khana jerked her head away but one of her two guards gripped her chin, holding her in place while his companion stuffed a bit of crimson cloth into her mouth and bound it in place. She glared daggers at them, wishing looks could kill.

Khoga bent over Link's stomach and raised his knife, mumbling something over and over again under his breath as he carved two shallow gashes in the hero's sides, one one the left and one on the right, drawing a sharp gasp of pain from the young man's throat as his blood seeped from him, mingling with the bokoblin blood he lay upon.

Khoga continued to mumble, raising both hands above his head and facing the sky, Link's blood dripping from the knife down his arms. More monster blood was brought forth in a crimson ceramic bowl, steam rising up from the vile liquid's surface; Khoga dipped his hand inside and scattered drops of boiling blood all across Link's body before pouring a gentle stream upon each of the fresh wounds in his sides; it hissed as it came into contact with the hero's raw flesh and he yelled, face tightening with pain.

Still fervently muttering what must have been some sort of incantation, Khoga drizzled blood over Link's heart and eyelids, and then over his wrists and ankles. Then he set the bowl aside and held his hands above Link's torso, fingers spread wide. Khana watched in agony of suspense, breathless with fear, squirming uselessly in her bonds. The pale moon gleamed down over them.

"Oh, my King, hear thou my plea," Khoga intoned, raising his face skyward. "Behold thine enemy; turn him now to thine ally. Break his soul and change his heart. Make him thine as I am thine!"

A red haze descended over the round chamber, and all at once the flaming torches went out, leaving smoky black tendrils that hovered in the air. Khana's breath stilled in her chest as she turned her gaze heavenward.

A blood moon hung in the sky, gleaming red with Malice.

Ganon's power at its peak.

A terrible sound rent the air; tears instantly burned in her eyes—it was a pure sound, a sound of unbridled anguish. Her heart hammering at her throat she turned her gaze back to the table and felt her blood turn to ice.

Link's eyes were impossibly wide and unseeing, his lips parted in that terrible endless scream of agony as he writhed and twisted on the table, jerking against the spiked manacles that held him down, causing them to gouge at his skin. His muscles surged, fighting against the dark spell that assailed him; his skin gleamed with sweat in the crimson moonlight as desperately he struggled, shuddering with pain.

 _Stop it!_ Khana wanted to scream, tugging fruitlessly in her bonds. Tears streamed down her cheeks; hatred, anger, and fear boiled over in an agonizing mixture through her soul… but she could only watch, utterly helpless as Link convulsed in frantic anguish before her. Her chest shook with sobs; it wasn't fair—how could anyone be so vile and cruel and warped as to be unaffected by the evil of their actions? She couldn't understand it, could only stand there, arms and legs pinned in place as Khoga attacked her hero.

The smoke in the room was behaving oddly; it crept down from the torches and coiled black around Link's body, rippling as if stirred by a great wind—yet the air was still.

Link's screams finally petered away, but his lips remained parted, his face slowly losing its color before turning an unhealthy shade of purple. _He's not breathing!_ Khana struggled desperately; Barta wept at her side. There were tears on Link's cheeks as well, his eyelids fluttering uselessly, his spastic jerks quickly weakening, his entire body twitching, consumed by violent shudders. At last he managed to suck in half a breath, a choking sob of agony.

Khana looked at him, her heart burning, throbbing in her chest with each frantic breath she tool. _Do it to me!_ she tried to scream through her gag, but all that came out was muffled gibberish. _Leave him alone—do it to me!_ Frustrated by her helplessness she couldn't help the tears as she sagged in her bonds, anger and desperation boiling in her blood. _Din, give him strength!_

"Master, answer the plea of thine faithful servant!" Khoga shouted, raising his hands to the heavens.

"Khana," Link whimpered with his next feeble gasp, and her heart broke at the weakness in his voice.

"Thine enemy is imperfect," Khoga went on, his voice controlled, calm. He fluttered his fingers over Link's shuddering frame; sparks of shadow magic dripped down to land on Link's skin, burning it the pale color of shadow on snow; Link screamed again at this, twisting where he lay, and the cold shadowy color began to spread, splotching down his legs, inching up his torso and towards his face and heart, and his screams only increased in pitch and volume; his struggles grew more frantic and frenzied. Blood dripped in a steady stream from his chafed wrists and ankles, and from the wounds in his sides.

Khana's eyes burned. _I have to do_ something!

She strained at the ropes and chains binding her with new determination fuelled by agony, trying to stretch the creaking fibers enough to step into the Gash; it wouldn't take much, and the chains—well, she couldn't do much about those, but perhaps if she squirmed enough they'd fall off—

Khoga continued to speak, as if praying. "Thine enemy is flawed like any man, and just like any man, he has just as much potential to serve Hylia… as to serve thee. Make him thine, my King!"

Link howled in agony, eyes wide with blind terror as the shadow spread over his heart and closed up his neck and face. There was blood at the corner of his mouth; he closed his eyes tightly as the shadow on his skin spread over them; his hair turned a sudden blinding white, and at long last his taut muscles relaxed and he went limp, his body still wracked with violent tremors—shudders of cold or pain.

Khoga laughed—a dark, excited sound. The torches flared, suddenly burning bright once again with flame.

"Open your eyes, slave," he commanded, glaring down at Link, whose eyes flashed open.

Khana stifled a gasp of horror.

Whereas moments ago he'd glanced at her with desperate blue eyes, his gaze was now a vibrant blood-red.

"Excellent," Khoga purred. He cleared his throat, tightly gripping Link's shoulder, seemingly unaware of the way the young man flinched away. "We shall return at dawn, and I will give you your first orders. Understand?"

Link's lips moved, but he said nothing, eyelids fluttering closed, a tear seeping down his cheek as shudders gripped his frame; still his face was twisted in a grimace of agony.

Khoga chuckled. He beckoned to the two guards at Khana's side. "She can't escape using the Gash," he assured them. "This chamber is protected by old magic. Let's go."

He and the other Yiga in the room swaggered out, pulling the heavy iron door shut behind them.

Khana tugged furiously at the ropes and chains binding her fast; she knew there was no way she could free Link from the manacles binding him down, not without the key, but if she could just go to his side…

Link's shudders eventually subsided, and he lay as though dead, motionless on the bloodstained table, his skin a lifeless gray and his lips tinged purple. Yet blood still seeped slowly from his wounds, giving her hope that he yet lived.

At last the ropes around her ankles were loose enough, and she took the half-step into the Gash, focusing hard on only bringing herself, not any of the ropes or chains. She reappeared a moment later, next to the stone table.

"Would that work with me?" Barta asked hopefully. Khana grit her teeth; she wanted to stay at Link's side, but…

She hurried over to Barta, placing a hand on her shoulder. Concentrating— _Just Barta. Barta, Barta, Barta. No iron_ —she stepped into the Gash and opened her eyes. Barta was at her side. _Yes!_ Quickly she took the Gerudo away from the wall and they reappeared once again by the table. Barta massaged her wrists with a pained grimace; then she turned her attention to Link. "Will that work with—"

But Khana was already at the hero's side, gently resting her hand on his shoulder. She took the half step and entered the gasp, but something yaked at her, drawing her back to the physical world; Link moaned faintly with pain, and she saw the shackles around his wrists glowing slightly, a dark red.

"I guess not," she murmured, disappointment searing her soul. "They must be enchanted." _Of course. Khoga guessed I'd get free. Of_ course _he wouldn't let Link get away so easily._

She looked around, another thought occuring to her. The Yiga had been waiting for them in Mist's stall, hidden in the Gash, but she hadn't seen them when she was in the Gash as well. _Which means there could be someone watching us right now, reporting to Khoga._ She swallowed tightly and grabbed Barta's wrist, yanking her into the Gash.

" _What was that for?"_ Barta asked, looking at her in surprise.

" _I have an idea,"_ Khana responded. She winced; she could never get used to the way the Gash changed her voice. " _I think it's the only way. As long as we're here, Khoga might have a way to control Link. I don't think he'd be able to resist if we were tortured in front of him."_ She swallowed thickly, remembering how she'd been willing to do anything, _anything,_ if Khoga would only leave Link alone. " _I don't know what they've done to him, but it can't be good. And we're not going to make it harder for him."_

Barta's eyes were wide with fear. " _So what do we do?"_

Khana looked up. " _First we're going to get out of here."_

" _But Khoga said that we can't get out using the Gash!"_

" _We won't be using the Gash. Not the whole way."_ Khana closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Gravity didn't follow the same rules in the Gash as they did in the physical world. In fact, it didn't really exist in the first place; only her perceptions of how gravity _should_ work kept her from floating away. Or so she hoped.

Eyes narrowed in concentration, she inhaled deeply, trying to let go of the physical world completely. _This is a different place. I cannot fall. I can fly. I'm lighter than air, but that doesn't matter, because weight doesn't exist here either._

It was making her head hurt. But Barta gasped delightedly; she opened her eyes and the ground was swiftly falling away, and they were soaring upwards, through the impossibly deep pit, towards the open sky above. Khana's heart pounded; it was working; Khoga was wrong; they were gaining speed and the opening hovered above them and they were going to go through—

There was a slight jolt, and their upward motion ceased as they collided with some sort of invisible barrier. _Alright, then. Plan B._ She guided the two of them to the edge of the pit. " _Reach for the stone right there, as if you were hanging from it,"_ she told Barta, guiding her hands into place. " _We're going to have to hurry. Khoga might have guards around the entrance of the pit, so pull yourself over the top as soon as I bring us back."_

Barta nodded, her brows drawn together determinedly. Khana inhaled deeply, preparing herself; then she made the half step back into reality and her weight suddenly crashed down on her as she clung to the edge of the pit. Quickly she hauled herself over the edge and helped Barta up behind her. And stepped back into the Gash.

" _Good idea,"_ Barta approved, grinning. " _Now what?"_

" _We get the Thunderhelm,"_ Khana said. " _That's the whole reason we came here. And we're not leaving without it."_

" _Do you know where it is?"_

Khana hesitated. Barta didn't know about her Yiga background, but that hardly mattered now. _The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can go back for Link._ " _It'll be in the treasure room,"_ she explained. " _And... yes, I know where that is."_

Quickly she maneuvered them away from the edge of the pit, towards a small doorway in the side of the towering cliff walls rising up on all sides. Once the idea of gravity was dismissed, it was much easier to travel through the Gash. And faster. She sped through the Yiga Clan hideout, through walls towards the treasure room. It wasn't that far from the arena they had just left, being one of the deepest rooms in the labyrinth of caves and tunnels that comprised her former home.

There were two guards outside of the treasure room, but she couldn't see anyone inside. _Which doesn't mean there isn't anyone invisible waiting on us._

She bit her lip. Maybe she was being paranoid. But the incident in Mist's cell had certainly had an impact on her; they'd been so woefully unprepared… _We need to do this quickly, and discreetly. But with two of us… we're twice as likely to get snatched by someone._

" _What now?"_ Barta asked, her voice a hushed whisper even though, in the Gash, they couldn't be eavesdropped upon. " _We don't want that little horse's cell all over again…"_

" _Certainly not,"_ Khana agreed, thinking hard. She took them away from the treasure room and into a storage room occupied by one guard patrolling between stacks of crates. _There's no reason to watch this room, right? There's only a bunch of bananas in here._

They reappeared atop the stack of crates furthest from the guard, and before Barta had time to react, Khana shoved her into the Gash, using the same hand motion she used to store weapons. She'd never tried it before with anything living, but… hopefully it would work. _Forgive me, Barta._

Then she returned to the treasure room, searching for the Thunderhelm from within the safety of the Gash. There were weapons, and chests of gold and precious gemstones, and even a few secret doors behind which crates full of rupees sat stacked on top of each other, all semi-transparent in the Gash. Khana already had several weapons stored away, but she added a few more, reappearing for seconds at a time to stuff them inside. _Hopefully Barta has the sense to take one of them._

The Thunderhelm was hidden well beneath a pile of ordinary blankets in a small corner. The message was simple: nothing of value here. But Khana smirked; even without the Gash she would have known there was something suspicious about the blankets. _Who would put a pile of dirt-cheap wool cloth in a_ treasure _room?_ Quickly she reappeared, lifting the pile of blankets and setting them aside, focusing on the crate they'd rested on. Deftly picking the lock she snatched the Thunderhelm from within and shoved it into the Gash. A tell-tale crackling caught her ears and she stepped into the Gash, heart pounding, as two blademasters appeared in the room just behind her. _Nayru's love, that was close. Too close._

And all of a sudden there were tears in her eyes and she was breathing hard, sinking down and curling her arms around her knees. _Too close,_ she thought. _Too close. Too close._

Memories flooded her mind—grabbing hands, Yiga appearing all around her, pinning her, tying her, Link with a sword at his back, Link trying to turn, to get to her, and the whip snapping down on him, leaving red lines behind— _My fault, my fault, my fault_ —and then she was sobbing inconsolably into her hands, shuddering with fear, shuddering with guilt and pain and fear. _Oh, Hylia above, this is all my fault… I should have done something…_ anything…

She inhaled deeply, pushing those thoughts away. _I didn't know. There was nothing I could have done; I didn't know. I'd only travelled through the Gash twice. I didn't know._

 _And sitting here isn't helping Link in the least._

With that thought in mind, she wiped her tears away, taking in a shaking breath that cleared her mind, rejuvenated her blood with the determination to win. She left the treasure room and returned to the stack of crates, reaching into the Gash and, with great relief, catching hold of Barta's hand and pulling her out.

"That was—" she started to say, but Khana clamped her hand over her mouth, looking anxiously at the guard pacing below them. He continued on, humming softly; he hadn't heard a thing. But Khana could hear footsteps approaching, echoing through the hall that led to the treasure room. Without another moment's hesitation she grabbed the Thunderhelm, a shield, and a golden claymore from the ash and pressed them into Barta's hands before taking them both back into the Gash, just as several guards reached the storage room, looking furtively around.

" _Why did you leave me in there?"_ Barta asked, looking at her anxiously.

Khana was already pulling them through the translucent halls, towards the hidden front doors to the hideout. " _We needed to act quickly. There were guards waiting invisibly in that room—if you'd been in there with me, we might have gotten caught again. When you have two targets, you're more likely to hit at least one of them. I couldn't take that risk."_

Bart sighed heavily, her features downcast. " _I'm slowing you down,"_ she mourned. " _I'm nothing but a hindrance, aren't I?"_

Khana didn't have the heart to agree. " _Of course not,"_ she insisted. " _You've done more than enough already. But if you were to die for this quest… you have your whole life ahead of you, and if everything goes well, the world will soon be at peace. You should be able to enjoy that peace." And so should Link,_ she thought anxiously, wishing she was there by his side.

They emerged into Karusa Valley, but Khana didn't stop until she saw a familiar silvery mare pacing along the canyon wall, cropping bits of dried grass from the stony ground. _Mist. So Khoga really_ did _release her._

She reappeared at the little mare's side and turned to Barta. "Take Mist and get to Gerudo City with the Thunderhelm," she said, trying to sound stern and commanding. "Captain Teake will be pleased that you're safe." She paused for a moment, remembering how Link had been imprisoned in the city, remembering their desperate flight. _It seems so long ago now._ "Tell them about how Link got you out, but say nothing more—not until we return."

Barta looked down from the blade she was strapping to her waist. "You will return?"

Khana swallowed thickly. "I have a plan," she said. "With any luck, we'll join you in the city by tomorrow afternoon." She was interrupted by Mist, gently nosing her shoulder, nostrils wide as she sniffed. _I'm sorry,_ she thought, turning to pat the horse's neck. _Link's not here. Not yet._

"Khana, I really don't like just leaving you two here—"

"Go now," Khana demanded forcefully. "The Yiga watch this valley. Every moment we spend here is another moment we're in danger. You need to get out of here."

Barta bit her lip, unhappiness gleaming in her narrow eyes. But with a sigh she nodded decisively, sliding the Thunderhelm over her head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Khana. You'd better be there." The worry and guilt in her voice was painfully obvious, but she swung a leg over Mist's back and wound her finger through the pale mane. Mist regarded Khana anxiously with a large brown eye, glancing back through the Valley. She knew her master was missing.

"Keep Barta safe," Khana whispered in the little mare's ear, hoping that somehow she'd understand. _She's a smart horse. It'll be alright._ She struck Mist's hindquarters, and she lurched into a swift gallop, dashing along the canyon floor as if the lashes across her body didn't even exist. Compassion warmed Khana's heart and she entered the Gash, soaring after the little horse, travelling beside her as she darted over stone and sand, tail streaming out behind her. It was only when she and Barta reached the end of the valley and veered southeast, towards Gerudo City, that Khana left them and hurried back to the Yiga Clan hideout. Back to Link. _Barta's safe. Now I just have to get Link out of here somehow._

She returned to the arena and reappeared just long enough to climb down inside the pit, past the magical barrier that stalled the Gash; then she warped through the Gash to the moon chamber far below, rushing to Link's side. He was exactly as she had left him—pale and still, his chest barely rising with breath. Tears burned in her eyes and she put a hand to his neck, feeling his pulse—faint and erratic, but still very much there.

"Wake up," she whispered, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened snowy-white hair out of his face. "Please…"

But he didn't respond, lying lifelessly on the stone, his skin cold.

Khana inhaled deeply, studying the chains around his wrists. She frowned; there was something not quite right about them. Carefully she ran a finger along the smooth outer edge, trying to find what exactly what was bothering her.

There was no keyhole.

She couldn't help the gasp of shock and anger that escaped her lips. No keyhole. No lock for her to pick. Only smooth iron, all the way around Link's wrists and ankles. Her shoulders slumped; with the shackles on, she couldn't take Link out through the Gash. He would be stuck here forever unless she thought of something else.

But what was there to do? She could think of nothing. No escape. No way out.

Frustrated, she began to pace, hoping that the repetitive motion and the soft tap of her shoes on the stone ground would strengthen her mind. She was tired, so tired, but this couldn't wait. _I can't just sit around doing nothing. We have until dawn—that's plenty of time for us to figure out a way to escape._

An idea struck her mind, like the sudden burn of a match in the darkness. _Maybe Khoga will remove the shackles in the morning,_ she realized hopefully. _Link wouldn't be able to serve him very well with those manacles—he'll have to remove them._

She didn't like it, but it was all she had. She would wait for dawn, wait for Khoga to unlock her hero, and then she'd whisk him away to safety.

Link's soft groan of pain drew her from her thoughts and she was instantly by his side, hovering anxiously over him as his eyelids fluttered open. She tried not to let his red eyes unnerve her. "How do you feel?" she asked, gently cupping her hand around his cheek.

His lips parted, and faint croaking sounds issued forth, but no words; at last he closed his eyes and gave a feeble shake of his head, looking miserable. Her heart burned with worry; she sat down on the tabletop at his side and gently combed his hair back. His eyelids flickered up again and he looked anxiously into her eyes, opening his mouth and again trying to speak.

"K…" he managed, his voice a rasping breath. His eyes narrowed in concentration. "K… Kha… n-na… Khana…"

"I'm right here," she promised, her heart in her throat and tears in her eyes. "What can I do?"

His eyes were brimming with tears. "C…" He coughed weakly, his chest heaving as a shudder coursed through him. Again she noticed fresh blood on his lip; had he bitten it, or was he bleeding internally somewhere? Fear closed around her heart. "C… cold," he whispered, the word barely audible. Well, he _was_ nearly naked, lying on cold stone at night. _I should have taken one of those blankets,_ she thought angrily. _But I might have one in the Gash…_

Quickly she reached inside and searched; there was a blanket with her camping gear and quickly she pulled it out, carefully tucking it over his shoulders and around his torso. His hands and feet stuck out, but the blanket covered the rest of them, and was it her imagination or was there a tinge of color in his shadowy cheeks that hadn't been there before?

"You were so brave," she murmured, kneeling down at his side. He turned his head to look at her through weary crimson eyes. She met his gaze determinedly; whatever Khoga had tried to do it clearly hadn't worked, for though his eyes and his skin and his hair had changed, she could still see that he hadn't changed; he was still Link. "I wish I could have done something to stop him."

His lips twitched upwards, the ghost of a smile. Again he tried to speak, running his tongue along his lips and swallowing thickly. "You… d-d… did… e… e…" He coughed again, a grimace of pain twisting across his features, another tremor shaking his limbs. "Everything you could," he finished all at once, breathless with fatigue. His eyes were losing their focus; he was slipping away into unconsciousness. "L… l…"

But the effort was too much; his strength was spent. Khana couldn't hold back the choked sob that escaped her throat; tears burned down her cheeks and she felt the strength leave her limbs. She leaned over him, her hair falling down on either side of her face, tickling his cheeks, but he didn't stir. "Let him live to see peace," she whispered, hoping that one of the Goddesses would hear her plea and answer it. She pressed her lips to his, tasting the blood and hating it, wishing that she could wake up from this horrible dream and leave it behind forever.

She pressed two fingers against his neck, feeling his pulse beat steadily onward, and gazed up at the dark sky far above, waiting anxiously for dawn to arrive. _I'll get you out of here._

 _Or I'll die trying._

* * *

 **Summary: The moon chamber is an ancient place, at the bottom of the "bottomless" pit in the Yiga Clan hideout. The Clan discovered it a few years prior to this story, along with several detailed accounts of arcane ceremonies and rituals using shadow magic. Khana has been there twice, to witness a ceremony meant to give shadow magic to Hylians. The Hylians don't always survive that magical transfusion.**

 **Khoga brings Link inside, and the Yiga chain him to a stone table in the center of the chamber. Khoga performs an evil ritual, asking for Ganon to change Link from an enemy to an ally. This results in Link's skin, eyes, and hair changing color; his skin is now a shadowy gray, his hair white, and his eyes red (sound familiar?). But as Link is in great pain and extremely weakened after the ritual is complete, it's unclear whether or not Khoga got what he wanted, so he and his men leave the moon chamber, promising to be back at dawn with Link's "first orders." He leaves Khana, Barta, and Link in the moon chamber, claiming that they can't escape through the gash because of old magic in the pit.**

 **Khana escapes her bonds and frees Barta using the Gash; she tries to free Link as well, but the manacles around his wrists and ankles are enchanted and prevent him from entering the Gash. So Khana focuses on getting Barta to safety; contrary to Khoga's belief she uses the Gash to partly escape the pit and they climb the rest of the way up; then they steal the Thunderhelm and leave the Yiga Clan hideout. Mist is waiting in Karusa Valley; Khana sends Barta away with Mist and the Thunderhelm and then returns to the moon chamber to see if she can free Link. But there are no keyholes in the manacles; she can't pick the locks. She decides to wait until dawn, hoping that Khoga will have to unchain him in order for him to obey his orders. Link tries to speak to her, but it's clearly difficult for him due to his weakness and the fact that the ritual Khoga performed was thoroughly traumatizing. Khana is convinced that the ritual must have failed, since it doesn't seem to her that Link was turned against her or anything. And... that's pretty much it! Future chapters won't be as torture-heavy; I promise. ( :**


	15. Chapter 15

**15\. Facing the Monster**

Khana awakened slowly, drawn from slumber by a gentle touch at the top of her head. Weak morning light wavered down on her and she gasped, shooting to her feet.

"S-sorry…"

A weak voice. She turned, to the stone table she'd been leaning against, to find Link gazing at her anxiously through half-closed crimson eyes. "There's no need for that," she said, forcing a smile to her face. _If he knew how much those eyes disturb me…_ "I'd planned to keep watch. Not… fall asleep. I'm the one who should be apologizing.

She remembered now; after hours of pacing, hours of watching Link shudder in his sleep, red gleaming beneath his flickering eyelids, she sat down with her back against the table, intending to rest for just a few moments before resuming her vigil… only to awaken at dawn, with Link gently stroking her hair.

Instantly she noticed the fresh blood on his wrist, likely caused by his tender touch, and guilt burned her soul. "Why did you do that?" she demanded, anxiously gripping his hand, holding it just so, keeping it out of reach from the narrow spikes lining the inside of the manacle.

He looked at her with a soft smile, wearily closing his eyes. "L-love you," he murmured. "Y… your hair… s… soft…"

Khana noted how he trembled with each word. _Trauma?_ she wondered, her heart aching. _Or is it the spell?_ "Link…"

His features grew solemn. "Plan," he croaked, licking his dry lips. "H-have a… p… p-plan…"

"So do I," Khana assured him. She glanced around before bending low, close to his pointed ear, and whispering softly, "Khoga will have to unchain you if he expects you to follow any orders. And the instant he does, I'll get you out of here. Those manacles resist the Gash—the instant they're gone, we'll disappear."

He swallowed tightly. "And… if he d…" He paused, taking a shaky breath. "If he d-doesn't…"

It was then that she heard the approaching footsteps, and Link's eyes went wide, his features slack with sudden terror. "S-stay," he whispered. "Please—stay!"

The desperation in his voice was almost enough to change her mind. "I'll be right here," she promised. "You… just won't be able to see me."

"Khana," he pleaded, eyes watering with tears. Fear seeped through her at his weakness— _Did they break his spirit? Please, Hylia, no!_ —and she kneeled over him, trying to smile. "I'll be right beside you."

But the fear didn't leave his wide crimson gaze. And the footsteps hammered closer, echoing in the stone corridor beyond the iron door. Khana swallowed tightly, bending down and pressing a kiss to his lips. _I love you,_ she thought, lingering just a moment longer—his lips, soft, moved firmly against hers; despite the weakness she knew prevailed in his exhausted body she felt the strength in his shoulder, bare skin beneath her hand.

The door creaked open. She jerked away, heart pounding; there was Khoga in the opening, and for half a second they regarded each other, motionless. Then he darted towards her and she stepped into the Gash, his hand closing in on empty air a hair's breadth after she vanished.

"She can't get far," Khoga muttered, snapping his fingers impatiently; a blademaster stepped up, stroking a whip, and Khana's blood ran cold. Khoga bent down over Link's wrist manacles and pressed his hands over the cold iron; it burned red with shadow magic and the Yiga Master stepped away, doing the same with the shackles around his ankles.

But the manacles didn't fall away. Khana frowned.

"Sit up," Khoga commanded. Link flinched and obeyed with a slight grimace; the manacles, with his wrists and ankles locked within, lifted free from the chains that had bound them to the table.

Without warning the blademaster struck his whip across Link's shoulder blades and the hero hissed, back arching with pain, eyes narrowed with fiery resolve.

Barely a second passed before the Yiga's whip smacked down again, and again, and again. Khana's heart burned and her mind whirled; why hadn't that wretch Khoga unfastened the manacles yet? Link's eyes were glassy with pain, his knuckles white, fists clenched and shaking. Sweat glistened on his battered body and he shuddered with each blow tearing across his back, but he didn't cry out.

Khoga released a frustrated sigh, beginning to pace. "Khana!" he barked. "I know you're there. Every second you remain in the Gash is another lash upon your _friend's_ back. How much more of this are you willing to take?"

Link glared at the man, crimson eyes burning. He flinched as the whip cracked over his shoulders, pain flitting across his face. "Sh-she's gone," he spat. "F-f-found a way—" another lash "—around y-y… y-your spells—" He gasped, eyes wide, at the next blow, but then he pressed his lips tightly together, brow furrowed. "D-didn't you… n-n… _Aah!"_ He was breathing hard; his strength was failing. Still Khoga didn't remove the manacles.

"Barta's gone," Link choked out. "Escaped…. Khana… s'gone… t… too…"

Khoga stamped his foot, a display of childish anger. "I've seen that, boy," he growled. "Why do you think we're doing this?"

Khana's heart burned. It was twisted. Disgusting. They were hurting Link to draw her out, so that they could hurt _her_ to get to Link. It was a maddeningly hopeless trap.

 _But not if I'm fast enough._

She had no choice. She looked at Link, drenched in perspiration, jerking with each lash that landed, head hanging low with fatigue. Khana's teeth clenched, and she stepped out of the Gash, landing on Khoga's shoulders and summoning a knife, holding it at the odious man's flabby throat. "Release him," she growled, "or I slit your throat."

Khoga sputtered with laughter. "Release him? Do you even know what that would entail?"

Khana shrugged. "They're enchanted. So _dis_ enchant them, or you're dead."

"The only magic involved was to seal them around his limbs. It'd take a blacksmith's forge to get them off now, I'm afraid." Khoga gave an ugly laugh. Link looked stricken, his face slack with horror; Khana squinted at him—it was a frightening notion, to be sure, but his expression was just so… _theatrical._

"I'll get them off later, then," Khana growled. "Remove the enchantment that keeps them from entering the Gash."

Khoga sighed, shaking his head. "You want to take him away so badly… but what makes you think he wants to leave?"

Khana blinked, taken off guard by the question. "O-of _course_ he wants to leave!"

"Boy!" Khoga barked. "Tell her the truth. Do you want to escape?"

Link flinched, eyes widening as a cry of pain escaped his lips. "What the—"

Khana was aware of Khoga going suddenly still beneath her; Link shook his head violently, heaving for breath, clutching the sides of his face with bloody manacled hands. He was shuddering, but gradually the shudders subsided and his hands fell to his sides. He looked at Khana with dull, emotionless crimson eyes.

"I am a monster," he said, his voice steady. Khana started. _Something just happened. Something's different._ "I've murdered men. Here I am treated the way a monster should be treated."

"That's ridiculous," Khana protested, gazing at him desperately. "Link, it's not true—"

And that was the distraction they needed. A blademaster lunged at her, smacking her wrist to the ground and forcing her to drop the knife. Then from behind someone grabbed her around the waist and yanked her away from Master Khoga, hurling her against the wall; her head knocked against stone with a flare of fiery agony, sending her into a stunned daze of pain, fighting against the flames burning in her skull, against the darkness encroaching on her vision.

Voices around her, far away and faint; she could almost hear words… faces blurring before her eyes, white Yiga masks on all sides—she couldn't tell if there was one or ten pinning her down. Throbbing pain, splitting her skull apart. Someone's heartbeat, loud and fast in her ears. Was she imagining the wetness behind her head or was it just the intensity of the pain? "Link," she breathed. It just made sense to say his name.

A spark of shadow magic. Her sense sharpened; the pain vanished. She was lying against the side of the moon chamber, her hands loosely bound in front of her, her ankles bound just as loosely, a slender Yiga bending over her. "You're not alone, sister," Ohnga murmured before straightening, taking her place at Khoga's side.

Khana blinked slowly, wondering if she'd imagined it. With the mask hiding her sister's features from view it was so difficult to tell.

"I'm so pleased you could rejoin us, Khana," Khoga purred. "I wouldn't want you to miss this."

All at once he struck Link hard across the face, jerking his head to the side.

But Link didn't flinch.

Didn't even cry out.

At first Khana thought he was merely refusing to give Khoga the pleasure of hearing his pain, as he'd tried so hard to do with the beating that had ended only moments earlier, but then she saw his eyes, and her blood ran cold.

They were empty. Soulless. Hollow. Filled solely with the crimson glow of Malice.

The eyes of a monster.

"...Link?" She was growing numb.

"Link, as you knew him, is no more," Khoga explained, strutting proudly across the chamber towards her. "The Hylian Champion is no more. And in his place… a shadowy being, the hero's shade. The scrolls detailing the ritual you witnessed last night refer to him only as Dark Link. My slave."

"It isn't true," Khana insisted, looking hard at Link, who merely sat there on the table, stiff and straight. "You failed. I—I spoke to him, just last night, and this morning—he's traumatized, thanks to you, but he's—he's still—" She swallowed tightly. "You couldn't do that. Change him. You… you _couldn't."_

But those were not Link's eyes she was gazing into. This was not Link.

"For a moment I agreed with you," Khoga admitted. "Certainly, when I arrived this morning, I saw no sign of what the scrolls had promised me. But I entered his mind, and found it weak. Torture certainly does have its uses, eh, Khana?"

She swallowed tightly. _Weak._ How else to describe the broken young man she'd kissed only minutes ago? The pain… it had weakened his body, and worn down his interior defenses. She licked her dry lips, trying to hold back the tears.

"Stand." She jumped at Khoga's stern voice, but the command was meant for Link. He obeyed stiffly, his movements clumsy and jerky. Unnatural.

Khoga pressed the knife Khana had threatened him with into Link's hands. "Kill her," he ordered, pointing at Khana.

Ohnga stepped forward. "Master, you _said—"_

"Khana is a traitor," Khoga explained gently. "The Hylian Champion is mine. There's no reason to keep her alive. I'll keep my promise; she will not suffer—"

"Master," Link interrupted, his lip curled into a sneer. _Oh, Link…_ "You do not want the Clan to think you've gone soft, do you?"

Khoga whirled around, stunned. "Wh-what?"

"With your permission I will take her to your lynel. The one imprisoned in the cellars. A fitting end for a traitor, wouldn't you agree?"

Khoga inched closer, head bobbing as he slowly looked the hero— _Not a hero,_ Khana reminded herself, feeling alone—up and down. Slowly he nodded. "Yes… you're right." He took the knife, flicking it into the Gash. "Proceed, then. Take her to the lower sanctum."

Khana shook her head, looking fearfully up at Link as he neared, his features blank. "Link," she whispered, searching his face for something, anything, a hint of the man she loved hidden away in those hideous crimson eyes.

But she found nothing.

Khana clenched her teeth as he lifted her in his arms, but she did not fight. There wasn't any point to that anymore.

It was as if he had died, she thought. Her eyes burned. _But he_ did _die. Link is dead. His soul is gone, replaced by this_ thing _inhabiting his body. Cold. Impassive._

 _Evil._

Tears pricked her eyes. "I hate you," she muttered, though she knew he wouldn't care. But words were the only weapon she had the heart to use. "You _are_ a monster."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, carrying her out of the moon chamber, into the corridor. _Did I get to him after all?_ She stole a glance at his face, hope kindling in her soul.

But no. His face was cold and impassive. All traces of Link were gone from the face that was once his.

Suddenly cold, Khana closed her eyes, wishing that Ohnga hadn't healed her, wishing she didn't have to be conscious for this. The bitter taste of betrayal burned cold and bitter in her soul.


	16. Chapter 16

**16\. The Master Sword's Chosen One**

" _This way, Link."_

" _Where are you taking me?" Link yawned widely, dressed only in a loose nightshirt and short brown trousers. It was the darkest time of the night, just before dawn, when neither sun nor moon blessed the world with light. His father had awakened him only minutes ago; now they stole through the silent castle, ghosts in its stillness. Link shuddered._

" _Trust me," his father, Tiryan of the Royal Guard, the King's Knight, murmured as they stole silently down a spiralling stair, the thick red carpet muffling their footsteps. "Just remember, lad… everything we've ever done is for the_ good of the kingdom. _They say that the Calamity will soon fall upon us… so we need a hero."_

 _Link felt something stir in his heart. Dread, perhaps. "Wh-what does that have to do with me?"_

 _Tiryan stopped, turned back to face his son, and raised a skeptical golden brow. "You're the best fighter in the kingdom. And you ask what being a hero has to do with you?" He snorted and shook his head, continuing down in the darkness._

 _Link swallowed thickly._ I just… don't want to kill anything. Violence makes me sick. And the heroes in the old tales had to do a lot of it.

 _He was probably a coward, and he knew it. No, he would not shy away from a fight, if it were truly necessary. If he saw a bokoblin chasing a traveller down the road,_ of course _he would step in and help._

 _But though he knew it was the right thing, he never could dispel the fear and disgust that shuddered through him when he saw the light leave a monster's eyes._

 _He knew he'd never forget an encounter with a lizalfos, years ago now. The reptilian creature was curled up on the ground, camouflaged to blend in with its surroundings. Link hadn't noticed it until it was too late—the monster was only a few feet away._

 _And it was looking at him. He could see its luminous eyes trained upon him. It knew he was there. He knew it was there._

 _But it didn't attack._

 _Link knew he must have stood there for several minutes before continuing on its way, and still the lizalfos didn't attack him._ Are they truly monsters? _he'd wondered then._ Or just animals, going about their lives? _Moblins and bokoblins were certainly more aggressive, but it made him wonder—were they, perhaps, just territorial? And as for lynels… he'd heard of people accidentally coming across one in the woods. The lynel would stare them down from a distance—but it wouldn't attack right away._

 _Regardless, Link knew he was killing something with some form of sentient thought. And it sickened him._

 _He'd been knighted at fifteen, three years younger than what was considered normal, because of his so-called skills. Perhaps he was truly gifted. Or perhaps it was a result of his father's incessant drilling for all but three of the years of his life. Regardless, people tended to stay away from him._

 _Which he didn't mind; he preferred being alone, remaining in the shadows, unnoticed. Attention made him highly uncomfortable. Human interaction in any form made him highly uncomfortable. That he_ did _blame on his father. What three-year-old has a chance to make friends and learn to communicate if he is constantly sparring with private tutors and his father?_

 _Such were the thoughts, none of them pleasant, running through his mind as he and his father made there way through the empty halls._

" _In here," Tiryan urged, pulling a thick tapestry aside to reveal a small wooden door. Link hurried inside; a damp breeze, cold and unfriendly, rustled up around him. It was black as pitch on the other side of the door, darker than the night filtering through the corridor they'd left behind._

" _Go on," Tiryan huffed impatiently._

" _I—I can't see a thing!"_

 _His father nudged him forward. "That's part of the test. Now let's go!"_

 _Link obeyed, though the dread spread further through him, drawing his chest tight. "What exactly is the p-point of this?" he asked, groping blindly forward and staggering down a set of steep stairs._

 _Tiryan sounded quite proud—of himself, or of Link, he couldn't tell. "To make you the hero we need. You'll save us all from Calamity Ganon."_

 _A wave of dizziness swept over him, nearly knocking him off his feet. "The Master Sword. You want_ me… _to pull the M-master Sword…"_

" _That's it exactly." Link could hear the smile in his father's voice. "Just like the heroes of legend."_

 _Link's breath caught in his throat. He stopped suddenly, and Tiryan stumbled into him from behind. Link barely noticed—all he could think about were the old legends, the stories he'd heard. The forces of the evil one, slain by the chosen hero. The chosen hero, beaten past the brink, the sword hammered and honed to never break. Ganon defeated, until the next time he reared his ugly head and the cycle started over again._

 _The heroes of legend were… well, legend. And… Link was Link. Short, skinny boy who could barely talk, easily lost in a crowd, with a forgettable face to match his forgettable personality. Not exactly hero-of-legend material._

 _His father wanted_ him _to defeat Calamity Ganon. A task that was more than likely to end in his death._

 _And if through some miracle the Master Sword chose him, and he succeeded in vanquishing Ganon… what then? The legends never said what happened to the heroes_ afterward. _Ganon was defeated, the Princess was rescued, happily ever after… and nothing more was mentioned. Would he be able to start over, forget the ways of violence, live out the rest of his days out in the beautiful wilderness?_

" _F-father, I don't want this," he protested, voicing his uncertainty for the first time in years… "I… I don't like fighting. I don't want to—to be known for_ anything, _let alone—let alone_ that…"

" _We've been preparing for this your_ entire life!" _Tiryan growled._

 _Link felt as if he were on the edge of the cliff. Attempt to draw the Master Sword, and fall… or take a step back, into safety._ Last chance. "You've _been preparing for this my entire life," he protested. "This was_ never _what I wanted to do with my life—I just want to—"_

 _The blow landed solidly on his nose, snapping it with a disgusting pop. Link staggered backwards and fell hard on his rear, red pain sparking in his face, searing through his mind. He could taste blood._

" _D'you think what_ you _want matters?" Tiryan asked, his voice low and dangerous. "The Calamity is coming. All of the signs are there. You are the greatest swordsman this kingdom has, and you're still young—you have_ years _ahead of you to hone your skills to even greater heights! You could save us all." He snorted in disgust. "But you're telling me_ you don't want to."

 _Link's heart sank, and guilt bubbled up like bile in his throat. "I just… don't want to fight," he protested softly, wiping the blood from his nose._

" _And is what you_ want _more valuable than the lives of everyone in Hyrule?" Tiryan huffed. "What about that Zora, Mipha? She seemed to like you. She healed your injuries from that moblin attack a while ago, didn't she? And she fought beside you. She'd fight to save you, but you won't fight to save her?"_

 _Link swallowed tightly. The guilt burned hotter, warming his cheeks. Mipha was like a sister to him. And he knew that she hated violence as much as he did—it was one of the things they'd bonded over._ I'm being a selfish idiot. " _I will fight," he muttered, getting to his feet and continuing down the passageway,_ "if _the Master Sword chooses me."_

 _It was dark, but he thought he could just see the walls, leading ever deeper. A left, a right, another right, then straight for what felt like an eternity, his bare feet slapping softly against cold stone worn smooth by time. Then one more left, and he saw gray light ahead._

 _The light of the rising sun filtered down into a circular chamber; stained glass windows of people long since lost to legend gazed solemnly down at him, their expressions frozen but no less commanding. Directly across from him, on the far side of the room, the stained glass depicted a massive tree, with a face…_

 _And in the center of the room, embedded in a triangular pedestal, was a long, gleaming blade with a blue hilt. The Master Sword, the Blade of Evil's Bane._

" _Go on," Tiryan said behind him, sounding much too excited. He gripped Link's hand and pulled him forward, eyes gleaming with delight. As if Link had never held a sword before, his father carefully guided his fingers around the hilt and stepped back. "Now. Pull."_

 _Link obeyed, tugging the sword upwards, muscles straining._ Nayru's love—it's buried _deep!_

 _He didn't give up, though; he was beginning to understand. It was selfish to hold his dreams above the lives of those throughout the kingdom._ They want peace too, _he reminded himself._ I might be able to give it to them.

 _It felt as if the sword was pulling something from him. Draining him. Sucking him dry. His knees wobbled with sudden weakness, and his vision wavered, clouded over by darkness…_

Why do you seek the Sword?

 _A woman's voice in his mind, calm and robotic._

To obtain peace, _he answered, concentrating on every word. Pain had sprouted in his chest, from his heart, stealing his breath and his strength._

You may not live to enjoy the peace you fight for, _the voice warned him matter-of-factly._

I'm okay with that, _he thought, surprised to realize that, truly, he didn't mind._

Very well… Master Link. You have passed the test.

 _The Sword came free. And the weight of the world crashed down on his shoulders._

* * *

" _Now, it's important to remember," Tiryan cleared his throat importantly, "that the people look to you for hope." He couldn't have been more pleased about the situation._

 _Link, on the other hand, was miserable. The King had asked him to give a speech a few weeks ago, days after pulling the Sword free, and of course he'd agreed… and failed miserably, stuttering, face bright red, in front of hundreds of people… among them the Rito, Gerudo, Goron, and Zora Champions recently chosen to pilot the Divine Beasts. People he desperately wanted to impress._

 _On top of that shame, he now had to deal with the stares. Before, it had been so easy for him to disappear. Short, thin, with hair that flopped into his eyes… just a random kid, perhaps a squire, nothing special._

 _Now, of course, with the Master Sword on his back… people were finding him everywhere. He couldn't hide anymore. And he could see in their eyes that some were afraid, realizing that Ganon's return was imminent. Others were in awe, which brought on a new level of discomfort—_ It's just me, Link, that kid who always sat in the corner and disappeared, don't you remember?— _but it was the_ Master Sword, _after all, an ancient blade of legend with mystical powers._

 _Still others were openly skeptical, perhaps because of how ordinary he'd seemed before (as long as they hadn't seen him fight), or perhaps because of his less-than-mighty stature._

 _All told, Link lived in a constant state of stress and discomfort._

" _Hey!" Tiryan rapped his knuckles on Link's forehead as they strolled through the courtyard, passing by knights in training and swords being sharpened and straw practice dummies with arms outstretched. "Aren't you listening to a word I'm saying?"_

 _Link shrugged away, meekly bowing his head. "Sorry."_

 _Tiryan rubbed a frustrated hand over his scruffy face. "Nayru's_ love, _this is_ exactly _what I'm trying to tell you about!" He gestured helplessly. "The people want a_ hero, _Link! Not some soft-spoken kid who looks just as frightened as they are! They look to you for_ hope, _and_ strength. _What will they think—no, what_ do _they think—when all they see is a mere boy, short and scrawny, with eyes full of fear? The problem with you is that you wear your emotions on your sleeve—if anyone wants to know what you're feeling or thinking, all they have to do is look."_

 _Link swallowed, wearily raising his eyes to meet his father's stern glower. "What do I do, then?" He felt numb, and cold. He'd been berating himself mentally ever since the Master Sword came free in his hands. He_ knew _he wasn't the hero the kingdom had expected, and hearing his father confirm his worries… he felt numb._

 _Tiryan scratched his head. "Well… well, you've just got to… toughen up. Put on a brave face._ Pretend _to be strong, even when—_ especially _when—you don't exactly feel like it. You need to—"_

 _But whatever he was about to say was abruptly cut off as a crudely-made arrow plunged through his neck, and the battle cries of a pack of bokoblins sounded throughout the courtyard. Link looked up, heart pattering in his ears, his breath trapped within him, and saw mounted bokoblins charging through the courtyard, their eyes an unnatural red. Then his father was on the ground, a puddle of blood beneath him on the cobblestones. The courtyard was ablaze with motion, an anthill under attack, but Link was aware only of stillness, of silence, as he crumpled to his knees at Tiryan's side._

* * *

 _It rained upon Hyrule that night. A boy sat alone upon the crest of a hill, beneath a single tree, gazing at the blade in his arms. "Fi," he whispered, his ragged voice barely audible over the rain pouring down, water mixing with tears on his cheeks. "Fi… how do I… put on a brave face?"_

 _The sword hilt flashed purest blue. "Master, I believe that what you mean to say is, how do you emotionally distance yourself from your immediate surroundings and the people around you. Considering your recent bereavement, are you certain that this is a wise course of—"_

" _Yes," Link cut her off. "So how do I… emotionally distance myself, then?"_

 _There was a brief pause. Then… "You must draw into yourself your innermost thoughts and feelings, those traits that make up your personality. Hold on to those inside, and focus on them, while letting the events and people around you pass you by. Hold peace in your core, and imagine it as a force around you, weathering the storm while inside you are safe and dry…"_

* * *

 _Rito Village was cold. And full of Rito. Two characteristics that rendered it one of the most uncomfortable places Link had ever set foot upon._

 _Not that all Rito were bad. It was just… they very nearly_ worshipped _Revali._

 _Who detested Link._

" _Impressive, I know," Revali smirked, landing gracefully on a wooden guardrail. Link watched him, emotionless._ Time to put Fi's training to good use.

" _Very few can achieve a mastery of the sky," the Rito archer went on, looking down his beak at Link. "Yet I have made an art of creating an updraft that allows me to soar. It's considered to be quite the masterpiece of aerial techniques, even among the Rito."_

 _Link gave a slight nod. Polite acknowledgement, to show that he was listening; nothing more was required of him._ Don't engage, _he could hear Fi counselling him._

 _Revali's eyes narrowed. "With proper utilization of my superior skills, I see no reason why we couldn't_ easily _dispense with Ganon. But let's not—pardon me for being so blunt—let's not forget that I am the most skilled archer of all the Rito." He sniffed haughtily. "Yet despite these truths, it seems that I have been tapped to merely_ assist _you. All because you happen to have that little darkness-sealing sword on your back. I mean, it's just…_ asinine."

 _Link could feel anger and despair rising within his soul._ I never asked for any of this, _he yearned to protest. But as he inhaled, taking a slow, calming breath that helped him realign his focus, he turned his thoughts to the wilds. Far away from Rito Village, a forest… deer bounding through the trees… the gentle rustle of wind through the trees… rain pattering down from the sky, kissing his face… not a memory of a real place, but somewhere that_ might _exist, that might be waiting for him at the end of it all if he succeeded…_

 _He pulled the anger deep inside. His features remained impassive._

 _Revali scowled. "Unless you think you can prove me wrong?" He was getting frustrated._ Ha! Who's wearing their emotions on their sleeve now? _The Rito Champion hopped lightly down from the rail and stepped closer to Link, eyes narrowed. "Maybe we should just settle this one on one. But where?" Theatrically he tapped his beak, as if deep in thought. "Oh! I know! How about up there?" He gestured to Vah Medoh, gliding lazily overhead; then he chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, you must_ pardon _me. I forgot you have no way of making it up to that Divine Beast on your own!" With a dramatic beat of his wings, Revali was airborne, mist spiraling down from his feathers as he flew upwards. "Good luck sealing the darkness!"_

 _Link was already walking away; in his mind he was no longer in the village, instead walking through a peaceful forest, listening to birds sing and squirrels chatter and wind whistle between leaves…_

* * *

" _Why are you so quiet all the time?" the Princess asked, sheltering in a small cave beneath a tree as rain tumbled down from the heavens. "I… I feel as if I'm speaking to a brick wall. Don't you ever speak?"_

 _Link swallowed tightly. His heart raced, and he debated telling her the truth about his so-called 'destiny.' That he'd never wanted it, that he wished he could have lived a more peaceful life. But at last he decided not to; for him to complain, when he'd drawn the Master Sword so easily, while she had been working herself to the bone to unlock her powers, without success… No._

 _He cleared his throat; Fi's advice had worked splendidly to keep his emotions locked tightly away in the presence of others, but he still didn't really know how to speak. His heart pounded anxiously. "Umm… I guess, with everything that's at stake, and with everyone w-watching me… I just have to stay strong, right? I—I can't complain. No matter what I'm dealing with, I have to keep quiet, otherwise people might l-lose hope or something, since I'm… supposed to p-protect them, right?" He gulped nervously. There. He had done it, only stuttering a little._

" _Oh," the Princess murmured. She sounded surprised. "You… don't sound half as confident as you seem. But I suppose… that makes sense." She smiled ruefully at him. "You're still just as uncertain as you were all those months ago, just after pulling the Sword… aren't you."_

 _Link swallowed, bowed his head, nodded slowly. Ever since the Yiga attack, it had become harder and harder for him to keep his innermost emotions contained in her presence. She'd changed… no longer pushing him away, instead seeking him out. And he, whether or not he admitted it to himself, knew he was doing the same. He'd never had close friends until he drew the Master Sword. Then he met Daruk, whose buoyant personality was more than enough to fill the void left by Link's hesitance and insecurity. And he'd been able to spend more time with Mipha, who showed him that warriors could still live peaceful lives._

 _And… the Princess._

 _She'd hated him at first, but now…_ Perhaps she didn't have any friends before all this, either. _He was starting to open up to her, the way he'd opened up to Mipha and Daruk._ Friends.

 _Link sheathed the Master Sword and went to join her in the cave. "It's a heavy burden we bear… Zelda."_

 _She looked at him, perhaps stunned by his use of her name instead of her title, but then she smiled. "You'll have to teach me," she declared, looking out into the storm. "Father, he… he gets under my skin so_ easily… _perhaps if I knew how to wear that mask that_ you _wear, he'd be able to take me seriously. Would you…?"_

" _Of course," Link smiled. "If… if you can teach me how to… communicate better."_

 _She chuckled. "I daresay, if I know anything, it's how to talk your ear off, isn't it?"_

 _Link nodded in quiet agreement, and she laughed again, her eyes sparking with life…_

* * *

Sunlight streamed down the shaft above the moon chamber. But it was cold, and weak. Link opened his eyes and the full pain of consciousness crashed down upon him—he felt as though he were an old dusty rug that someone had strung up and proceeded to beat the daylights out of. His muscles burned with fatigue from his struggles against the terrible spell placed upon him the night before, and his blood felt as if it had been infused with poison that now burned his body from the inside. And of course there was the myriad of bruises, cuts, and whiplashes on top of that, and the fresh gashes on his wrists and ankles… so much pain, but he was so weak… he lacked the strength to cry out, and his mind felt foggy and unfocused…

He closed his eyes. _Hylia, take me,_ he begged, shivering. _Nayru's love… Nayru's_ love… His breath came in swift gasps; tears burned in his eyes. Memories streamed back to him… memories of agony… his throat ached now from his screams… he tried to forget, wished he could forget; a breathless sob choked out of his throat and he shuddered, tears streaking down his cheeks and into his hair. Monster blood, sticky and foul, dry upon his skin; still it seemed to burn—or perhaps he was merely remembering that pain… pain that he still felt, pain that even now ricocheted through his blood… _The world against me…_

He had to get away. Get out of this chamber of blood and pain. But his limbs… so weak… he lacked the strength to move his head, let alone fight against the manacles binding him down. But he tried, reaching out with shaking hands, groping for hope despite the fresh cuts just now gouged into his wrists by the despicable cuffs.

Soft hair brushed beneath his fingers.

His heart leapt— _Khana!_

He remembered—or had it been a dream?—her lying down at his side, then pacing back and forth, then coming to rest just beneath his hand. Relief shuddered through him; he wasn't alone; she was here with him, and everything would be alright—

But he was quickly swallowed by horror. It was dawn; Khoga would return soon. _And_ _Khana is still here._ She had to leave.

Khoga would be back soon. Link swallowed thickly, his throat dry with dehydration and terror. His pulse skyrocketed, beating a tattoo upon his neck; his breath came in panicky gasps as fear and uncertainty and sadness and desperation roiled around and around within his soul, a storm of chaos raging through his consciousness. Tears burned in helpless agony in his eyes— _I'm stuck—can't do anything—chained down—too weak—the pain!_

And somewhere in his mind a rational thought. _This doesn't help Khana._

He clung to the thought; it anchored him, as his touch to her head anchored him; he forced his racing heartbeat to calm, forced himself to breathe. _I need a plan. Some way to get us both out of here._

 _But I'm chained down. Khana can leave whenever she chooses. Why did she stay?_

He shook his head, wincing at the pain even that small movement caused. _Focus. The fact of the matter is, she's here, not safe, and I'm utterly helpless._

He frowned thoughtfully. _Or perhaps not. I'm still in possession of my mind. I can think of a way out of this, can't I?_ But his head was foggy with pain and exhaustion; when he tried concentrating, he felt as if he'd black out. His thoughts drifted as slowly the cold dawn light began to strengthen; he was running out of time.

He wondered about the memories he'd experienced in his dreams. There was something about them that didn't quite add up… something about them was glaringly different about the other memories he'd gotten back…

Well, they were clearer, for one. Almost unnaturally clear. As if they'd only just happened, moments ago. He could almost smell the rain, the moss in the cave… But that wasn't it.

He gave a slight start. _Nothing triggered them._

Before, there had been something that acted as a trigger—something in his current life that correlated with the past. But the memories of the previous night hadn't had anything to do with the ritual, that he could remember.

He clenched his teeth, brow furrowing in desperation. _So… if it wasn't triggered by anything… perhaps the Goddesses were trying to tell me something?_

 _But what in Din's name was it?_


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry for the long delay! I just started my first semester of college with 18 credit hours... I've been kinda busy. But I think I'm getting the hang of it now; hopefully I'll be able to post a little more regularly! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **17\. The Lynel**

"I hate you," Khana muttered bitterly, limp in his arms. "You _are_ a monster."

Link swallowed tightly. Another crack splitting the fragile glass of his soul. _She doesn't mean it. She's lying. She can't mean it._

But there was no lie in her voice—only cold anger and despair, and… hatred.

He saw again, out of the corner of his eye, the horrible ashy gray of his skin. Shadowy and unnatural—unless, of course, you were a corpse. And he hadn't even seen his face since the ritual; perhaps he'd sprouted tusks or had a bokoblin's snout or his eyes were red or something equally disturbing.

 _She_ does _mean it,_ he realized, and the thought was a stab wound in his heart.

He almost relented then, almost tried to smile, offer comfort, reassure her that Khoga didn't have control over him. But then all would fail.

So he kept his mask in place, forced his features to remain blank, hid himself from the Yiga around him.

In those few minutes before Khoga reentered the moon chamber Link had scoured his mind and memories, asking himself _why_ everything that had happened, had happened. All of Khoga's talk about getting Link to fight for him, though he'd promised not to torture Khana and thus had no other way to control him… the sadistic ritual that had turned his skin to shadow but hadn't wrought any other physical changes he was aware of… and the eerie chants about changing his heart…

He'd guessed that the spell was meant to give Khoga control over his mind. But somehow he'd failed.

 _And as long as he doesn't know something went wrong, there's hope,_ Link had realized. For if somehow the Yiga leader learned of his mistake, he might perform the ritual _again,_ or break his promise not to torture Khana, or even kill them both…

At first he hadn't wanted Khana to disappear into the Gash when Khoga returned. He didn't know for certain that the spell had failed; he'd hoped instead that perhaps by focusing on Khana's face he could anchor himself to his true identity and resist Khoga's attempts to possess him.

Which was when he realized why he'd remembered _those_ particular memories and none other. It could only have been a blessing from the Goddesses.

The flogging that followed was useful, in a way. Khoga commanded him to sit, and he _hadn't_ felt some other force enter his mind to coerce him; he hadn't felt anything at all. He obeyed quickly of his own volition, despite the trembling weakness and agony in his veins and the beating that followed, sudden and unexpected and horrible.

It was good practice. By the time Khana reappeared, he'd shown Khoga what he expected to see—a weak boy, in agony, hopeless. His mask had shown a struggle when Khoga attempted to access his mind. But inside, he felt nothing. And when his _struggle_ was over, Khoga saw what he wanted—a mindless slave.

All those years, a century ago, putting on a cold, impassive facade. Now his—and Khana's—lives depended on it.

The pain. The sting of the fresh lashes across his shoulders, blood dripping hot down his spine. The burn of his blood through his veins. He felt it, acknowledged it, buried it deep down inside so that it wouldn't show on his face.

The weakness. The growl of hunger in his empty stomach; the feeble ache in his exhausted muscles. He forced himself not to tremble, not to quiver as he held Khana in his arms. Most of her body was solid muscle—heavier than fat.

He glanced briefly down at her, bound and limp in his grasp. Eyes narrowed, cold with hopelessness. " _I hate you."_ Mere words that cut far deeper than the bite of the whip.

They planted doubt in his soul. He saw the shadow of his skin and cringed. And he'd seen fear in Khana's eyes when she'd looked at him. " _You_ are _a monster."_

Her words were nearly enough to break the mask. But he shoved the hurt away, down with all the rest of the pain, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

He made it to the archway leading into the cellar room containing the lynel. Then he stumbled, crashing to his knees and scraping them on the rough stone. He could no longer stop the shudders of weakness and exertion from gripping his frame. His face was all he had left to deceive Khoga. _Calm,_ he told himself. _Cold._

The whip snapped down on his back and his eyes flashed closed; it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to stay silent and still. But then it cracked again, and again, and again; Khoga shouted for him to stand in a voice distorted by the swirling dizziness fogging Link's consciousness. He ground his teeth together, opening his eyes and staring straight ahead; he forced himself back to his feet. Tremors of pain and fatigue wracked his beaten body, but he stepped forward, Khana held safely in his arms. Again he chanced a glance down at her; her eyes were still narrowed and downcast in a stony glare. His heart burned. _Just a little longer. We're almost done._

It was a terrible plan, really. Free the lynel and run with Khana in his arms, hoping that the monster would provide enough of a distraction for them to get away. Too many things could go wrong, but he vowed to himself that if worse came to worse, he would throw himself into the lynel's path and let himself die so that Khana could escape. He'd seen in her eyes why she'd reappeared to stop his beating; she had believed that Khoga's ritual had failed. And then he'd thrown her loyalty in her face, hoping it would convince her to leave.

 _But she's still here. Because of me._ It warmed his heart that, even though she believed he'd betrayed her, she did not leave. _Maybe there's still hope. Maybe she'll forgive me._

 _If this works._

A few shuffling steps later, he felt once again on the verge of collapse. Shuddering from the strain of holding himself upright, he hesitated, acutely aware of the agony seizing his limbs.

 _But I can't falter!_ If he did… they might take Khana away from him… he couldn't let that happen. Not when she refused to leave through the Gash.

He held her closer to his chest but she flinched, lip curling in disgust as she glared at him. Link forced himself to ignore, to take another step, and another, and another…

He could see the lynel now, its green gaze boring into him. It was heavily chained, manacles binding each of its four hooves to the ground and locking its arms to the walls of its cell. Link had noticed it during the ill-fated attempt to rescue Mist, but as it hadn't posed a threat he hadn't thought much about it. Now, however, he couldn't help but wonder… _Why, for Din's sake, does the Yiga Clan need a lynel?_

" _To dispose of prisoners, of course,"_ the lynel responded dully, his gravelly voice reverberating through Link's mind. This time he couldn't help but flinch in surprise.

 _You can speak?! You read my mind?!_

The lynel's feline features tightened. " _Of_ course _I can speak. I'm… surprised you're surprised by that."_ His eyes narrowed, and his jaw dropped as Link stumbled closer with the grace of a redead. " _Wait. You're that boy! The one who came yesterday, to free that little horse…"_ He paused, tilting his head. " _What happened?"_

Link's head was beginning to pound from the overwhelming strength of the lynel's voice. And from his own fatigue. " _The Yiga performed some sort of ritual on me."_

" _The Yiga,"_ the lynel growled, his voice sour. " _Disgusting creatures."_

" _They think they control me,"_ Link tried to explain, " _but they don't. I have a plan; I can get you free. Will you help us?"_ He was only a few feet away from the stall door.

The lynel's eyes narrowed. " _You would ask me to carry you and your female as if I were a simple carthorse."_ His lip curled. " _Some may stoop to bear such burdens, but I and my kind have_ never _debased ourselves so."_

Link blushed, but he didn't deny it. It was a better idea than relying on the lynel to cause enough chaos to allow for escape.

Master Khoga snapped his fingers and a key appeared in his hand; he unlocked the heavy iron door and eased it aside. Link lumbered wearily inside, shoulders stooped with fatigue. As gently as he could he set Khana down at the lynel's forelegs. _Please don't hurt her…_

" _I'm starving,"_ the lynel protested, and Link gave a start, realizing that his thoughts had been heard. The monster inhaled deeply. " _But if you can guarantee my freedom…"_

" _I'll try,"_ Link promised, and he turned to face Khoga. "Master, you must unchain the lynel, or it cannot dispose of this traitor." _Khana, forgive me._

Khoga recoiled, head bobbing up and down as he regarded the monster. "I see no reason to risk myself when I have _you,_ slave," he growled, trying to sound imperious and failing miserably. He snapped, and a second key appeared in his flabby gloved hands. Quickly he shoved it at Link and backed away, fear revealed in the wringing of his hands.

" _Hurry,"_ the lynel urged. Link looked up into the hulking creature's gaze, regarding him steadily as he approached.

" _Will you help us escape with you?"_ he asked again, worry creeping through his limbs, pounding his heart faster and faster.

"Do it quickly!" Khoga hissed, impatiently stamping his foot.

Link swallowed tightly. Collapsing down on weary limbs, he lifted the key to the thick manacles chafing around the lynel's ankles. _Please,_ he thought one last time, turning the lock. One by one, the lynel's feet were released from their bonds, and Link moved up to his burly wrists, allowing one and then the other to fall at the lynel's sides. The towering monster stood free.

"Get _back_ here, slave!" Khoga yelped, beckoning Link from the cell—the last words he ever uttered. The lynel surged forward in a tremendous leap, soaring harmlessly over Khana and Link and trampling over a stunned blademaster; in one smooth motion he tore Khoga's head from his body, and then his arms from his torso. Link cringed.

All at once Yiga were appearing and disappearing, firing arrows and raising scimitars. The lynel ripped and clawed at all who dared attack; the air was filled with bestial roars and howls of pain and crackling sparks.

"Run, sister!" The Yiga who'd bound Khana swiftly slashed through her ropes and hauled her to her feet. "Get out of here!"

Link dragged himself upright, meeting her burning violet gaze. An instant passed. Khana shook her head and marched up to him and landed a solid punch on his face. With a startled cry he staggered backwards, stars and daggers of pain firing across his mind as his nose broke yet again. His back slammed into the wall and he slid down to the floor, eyes watering with pain.

"Are you free?" Khana asked urgently, her voice ringing in his ears.

"Always was," Link grunted, struggling around a mouthful of the blood dripping from his nose. Flailing wildly, he struggled to push himself back to his feet; Khana's tight grip around his shoulder supported him.

" _Let's go,"_ the lynel growled, reaching out with a thick, leathery hand. Link winced at the sight of unconscious—or worse—Yiga warriors scattered at the beast's hooves. Ohnga, Link noticed, had disappeared.

He spat blood from his mouth and gently tugged Khana forwards. "Time to get out of here."

She jerked away from him, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at the lynel. "Have you lost your _mind?!"_

"He won't hurt us," Link assured her, stepping forward. _I think._

" _Hurry! Others will come,"_ the lynel stamped an impatient hoof and glanced warily towards the doorway.

"Trust me," Link pleaded, taking Khana's hands in his and gazing into her eyes. But she cringed away, sending a bolt of agony directly to his heart. "Khana…?"

She bit her lip tightly; a soft sigh escaped her throat and she shook her head. "Nayru help my stubborn heart," she muttered; then she squared her shoulders and marched up to the lynel, ignoring his outstretched hand and vaulting gracefully onto his broad back.

Link gulped, pain burning through his soul; with a good deal less grace and the lynel's assistance he sat behind her and tentatively placed his hands on either side of her waist. She stiffened, and the lynel plunged forward at a jolting, pounding gallop, hands clenched in fists at his sides. Through the arching doorway, up and out.


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry for the rather inconsistent updates! Life is... difficult. But then... what else is new, right? I hope you enjoy this chapter (although, regrettably, Link did NOT enjoy this one very much) and I'll try to post the next one soon!**

* * *

 **18\. Desperation**

Khana didn't particularly enjoy the touch of Link's hands gentle around her waist as the lynel clattered along through dark caverns. He had been so horribly cruel… coldly planning her death—and a painful one at that—as if all the love and goodness within him had been utterly quashed.

She would not so easily forgive him. If, indeed, he really _had_ 'always' been free. Looking into those crimson eyes, it was difficult to see anything but a monster.

 _How will I ever trust him again?_

The lynel barrelled between crates of bananas, knocking them over and sending fruit flying every which way. Khana felt its gait falter for an instant as it stepped on one, sending yellow fruit gushing over the floor.

The rustle of sparks hissed in Khana's ear and she caught a glimpse of a crimson bodysuit out of the corner of her eye. With barely a thought she snatched a longsword from the Gash and flicked it out to the side; the assailant fell back with an angry groan of pain. The lynel snorted anxiously, glancing briefly back before giving her a curt nod. Khana swallowed and ignored the beast, unnerved by the glimpse of approval in its eyes.

 _I could leave now,_ she reminded herself. _Get myself out of this lunatic situation._

She'd almost done exactly that only moments ago, when Link asked her to mount the lynel as if it were a simple horse. As if it were brave, gentle Mist. It was… _insane._

But the pain in his voice when she cringed away had changed her mind. _Whatever this creature sitting behind me is… it sounds like_ him. _It_ sounds _like him._ It looked like him, too… just the wrong color. She shuddered at the sight of his hands loosely held at her waist. Gray, dead hands. But they were warm. She could feel that warmth through her clothes.

 _Hormones,_ she decided as the lynel sharply rounded a corner. _I loved Link. And this monster-Link still has his good looks. That's why I can't leave him._

She didn't want to consider the possibility that he was still the same person inside. The Link she'd known wouldn't have plotted her death so callously. And the possibility that he'd done so knowingly was too painful to bear. _That he would want_ anyone _to suffer like that…_ It was unfathomable.

"I thought you'd leave," Link murmured behind her, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "If you thought I betrayed you… I hoped you'd leave. The ropes were loose enough."

She stiffened at how easily he'd perceived her thoughts. _Dark magic,_ was her first impulse. She ground her teeth together, frustrated. "I don't exactly know why I didn't," she growled. "You were… completely different."

The lynel slowed its pace, coming to a crossroads. It sniffed the air, head raised high, and trotted heavily to the right. Seeming to gain confidence as it continued down the sloping passageway it lunged once again into its powerful, lurching gallop, hooves striking hard against stone. Link didn't respond, and Khana found herself feeling slightly… disappointed. And yet the seeds of hope had taken root in her soul; perhaps it _had_ been a ruse to get her to leave…

On the other hand… _How can I trust anything he says? How do I know if he's lying or not?_ She felt sick.

The lynel burst out into one of the outer meeting halls and lumbered to a stop, prancing uneasily. Khana's blood froze at the sight of the sea of maroon-clad Yiga warriors barring their way, chanting Khoga's name in a droning chant, stamping their weapons against the ground. She'd forgotten how quickly word spread with the Gash at their disposal. _Merciful Din… There's no way we can survive this!_

Suddenly someone howled in the center of the crowd, clutching a bloodied stump instead of a hand; seconds later someone else cried out nearby, tumbling to their knees; the chant ceased as Yiga turned to face this new invisible adversary. Khana's heart soared as she caught a glimpse of dark hair freed from its mask and burning violet eyes. _Ohnga._ Her sister zipped in and out of reality, teleporting through the crowd with a scimitar flashing in each hand. It was as if a bomb had been detonated and was going off in slow motion; while some Yiga spun and whirled to look for the assassin, others fled to the Gash for safety, and still others waved their swords as if swatting at flies.

The lynel roared, lunging forward with renewed vigor, hope tinging its gravelly cry; hooves pounded resolutely against rugged rock and the Yiga Clan descended into chaos.

All at once something slammed into her side and knocked her to the ground, sending the breath whooshing from her lungs. Khana rolled onto her stomach, wheezing, mind spinning; she caught a brief glimpse of several Yiga charging after the lynel, some teleporting in front of it and lunging upwards out of the way at the last second, trying to distract it. Link's panicked red gaze met hers; he was stretching an arm out to her.

"Get the boy!" The command came from directly above her; desperate for leadership the Clan hastened to obey, converging on the fleeing lynel and its passenger. Khana glared at the blademaster standing over her and rolled out of the way just as his longsword plunged down towards her, just barely catching her shoulder. She shoved herself to her feet and backed away, her own blade gripped defensively; the burly man chuckled and stepped into the Gash, presumably to launch a sneak attack on her from the side. Khana didn't give him the chance, disappearing safely into the Gash as well; in the shadowed other world she dashed through midair, searching for Link in the midst of Yiga fleeing, Yiga dying, Yiga—fighting?

Khana stared in horror. Many of the Yiga still in the chamber were fighting amongst themselves, brutally launching merciless attacks on former comrades. A cold shudder snaked down her spine and she turned away, feeling numb. _To be a first-hand witness as my home falls apart._

Sobered by the thought, she looked again for Link; the lynel was alone, pacing indecisively between the musty darkness of the caverns and the gleam of daylight beyond. Strangely enough no one was paying it much attention, but its eyes were constantly flickering back over the crowd. Khana followed its gaze and spotted Link, backed into a corner by five assassins wielding spiked scythes and sickles.

He was fighting desperately, clutching a discarded broadsword with both hands, eyes wide with desperation. Khana's heart lurched; blood drenched his left side, streaming from a thin gash over his ribs, several inches beneath his armpit. He was shuddering; his sides heaved, and his skin glistened with sweat. In the instant she turned to look at him, he gained a deep cut on his thigh despite his attempt to stumble backwards to dodge the blow; as she took her first step forward he killed one of his assailants and raised his blade in time to deflect a blow that would have gutted him.

Khana lunged forward, desperate to get to his side; though his skill was evident in the fact that he still somehow managed to fight while wounded, his fatigue was just as apparent. Another strike glanced off of his upper arm, leaving a nasty tear in his skin. _Faster,_ Khana willed herself, sprinting through Yiga from the safety of the Gash. _Faster!_

She appeared above one of Link's attackers, embedding her blade deep in his neck as gravity to tugged her downwards; swiftly she sprang away from the corpse only to have the breath leave her lungs yet again as warm blood burned from her body. " _What…?"_

"Khana!" Link yelled, distracted for a precious moment. One of the three assassins still converging upon him thrust his sword in up to the hilt and wrenched it back out; Link staggered backwards, the blade clattering from his hands as his splayed fingers flew to the gash suddenly opened beneath his collarbone, just to the right of his neck. He stood for a moment, silent, his face a mask of unbearable agony as his legs gave beneath him and he collapsed.

In the next second, with an angry roar, the lynel left its post by the exit and charged towards the dying hero. It grabbed one Yiga and tossed him aside, breaking his neck with a revolting snap, while kicking in the skull of another. Ohnga appeared and stabbed the third in the heart. Then she snatched Khana's hand and yanked her into the Gash.

" _Fool!"_ she barked, dragging her sister away from the battle. " _You could have escaped. You could have_ escaped!"

" _Link wouldn't have gotten out if I left,"_ Khana protested breathlessly, pressing her free hand to her side. An assassin's blade had struck her just beneath her ribcage, a poorly-aimed blow that nonetheless was bleeding profusely and stabbed pain into her gut with each shallow breath she dared to take. " _His… his plan wouldn't have worked without me!"_

" _How could he do that to you?!"_ Ohnga roared, her hand tightening into a fist around Khana's as she hurried out into the red-tinged sunshine of the Gash outside. " _How can you still believe in his love?"_

" _He knew I couldn't leave him,"_ Khana tried to explain, her heart burning. " _It was the only way to save us both."_ She understood that now. Nayru curse her stubborn heart. A sudden flare of pain from her side plastered a grimace over her face, and Ohnga noticed.

" _Khoga kept his confidants close, and his secrets closer,"_ she growled, pressing her hand over her sister's wound. " _But I know enough of shadow healing to help you here."_

For a moment Khana felt horribly dizzy; the shadows of the Gash stretched and blurred all around her and her side ached with sudden painful cold. Suddenly the world rushed back into sharp focus and she wobbled, held up only by Ohnga's firm grasp on her shoulder. The wound in her side, now black at the edges, was much smaller and bled only a little. _Thanks,_ she thought of saying, but with clarity returned to her mind and her own agony eased, she remembered what had happened to Link after she fell. " _We have to go back!"_ she insisted, tugging at her sister's hand and looking anxiously back to the cavern entrance at the end of Karusa Valley.

No sooner had the words left her lips than the lynel galloped into the daylight at breakneck speed, holding a pale, blood-drenched Link motionless in its massive hands. Arrows and Yiga poured out in pursuit, though not as many as Khana had expected.

Ohnga muttered angrily under her breath. "Go with that lynel. Get to safety. I'll seal off the canyon to keep them from following you."

And suddenly Khana was tumbling weightlessly through the air as the sky flashed from red to blue before she landed hard on the lynel's back. The creature grunted in surprise, turning slightly to glance back at her; she felt its pace begin to slow. "Don't stop! Run!" Khana shrieked desperately, clinging to its furry mane.

With a decisive snort the lynel picked up its pace, sprinting over stone and leaping over boulders a third its height. Arrows zinged down all around them, most clattering helplessly to the ground while others struck the lynel's hide and bounced harmlessly off. Khana's heart hammered loud in her ears and she huddled low on the monster's broad back, praying that the arrows would somehow stay away from her and Link. Whose skin was certainly not impervious to arrows.

A strange sizzling sound rustled in her ears and she looked ahead in horror, to see a globe of burning crimson spreading swiftly outwards and downwards, as if to encase the entirety of Karusa Valley in a magical shield. _Ohnga._

" _Run!"_ Khana screeched in horror, her grip tightening on clumps of the lynel's mane. It panted breathlessly in response, sweat dampening its fur as it stretched low over the ground, platter-sized hooves crashing against the ground and sending it rocketing forward at a mad, desperate place.

The globe of red was closing fast, dripping down towards the ground. In places it had already collided with stone, sealing the Yiga behind them. In moments the one path of escape was just a small gap, and Yiga everywhere were rushing madly to get to it—but the lynel was faster, and it had a head start. It slid the last few feet on its knees, an instant before the crimson gap closed and then vanished, leaving Yiga pounding desperately on an invisible barrier. Khana felt a nauseating combination of guilt and relief rising like bile in her throat; the lynel released a triumphant roar, jumping up in celebration before slowly clattering to a halt. Khana frowned.

"Keep going!" she insisted, digging her heels in. "We have to get Link to a healer—keep going!"

The lynel growled, gently setting Link down on the stone of the canyon floor before giving a violent shake and twisting to grab Khana's arm and pull her down. It uttered a strange series of grunts, syllables that at first she didn't recognize as words. "Death," it rumbled, brow furrowed in concentration. Khana was baffled. "Me. Death. If… stay you. Death if _I_ stay you." It tilted its head, looking pleased, before turning and galloping away in a flurry of hooves and dust. Khana's heart sank as she understood. _It's right. People will try to kill it if they see it, even if it really is just trying to help._

Ohnga reappeared with a crackle, staring after the fleeing monster. "You know what this means, don't you?" she growled, glaring down at her sister.

Khana only glanced at her blankly before going to Link's side. _Nayru's love…_ how could anyone lose this much blood and not be dead? But even as she stared helplessly, his chest rose with shaking breath and he whimpered, agony twisting his features in a painful grimace.

Ohnga swallowed audibly. "It makes sense," she whispered. "The ritual… the fact that he tamed a _lynel…_ " She fixed her sister in a grave stare. "Khana… he is Hylian no longer. Instead he… he's a monster. Just like that lynel, or lizalfos, or bokoblins…" She shook her head, lips twisting in disgust.

Khana nodded slowly. It wasn't much of a surprise. "I don't care," she muttered, reaching into the Gash and pulling out a spare shirt, ripping it into shreds and pressing down on Link's shoulder, wincing at his cry of pain. "He's still the man I love." Link's eyelids fluttered, revealing the whites beneath. He twitched, a convulsive motion of sheer agony. "And… he's going to die. Those cuffs… they keep him out of the Gash. We won't be able to get him to Kachoo in time, and they won't let him in Gerudo City…"

Ohnga raised a stern eyebrow. "Are they worse than the Yiga Clan, then, to leave a man to die?"

Link moaned, weakly thrashing in the sand. Khana's heart hammered; fear was tingling up through her limbs, spreading cold, threatening to engulf her soul. _Would they leave a_ monster _to die?_

She swallowed tightly. "They're his only chance," she conceded. _The Bazaar is just too far away._

Ohnga pulled a large round shield from her Gash and set it in the sand next to the hero. "We don't have much time," she muttered, withdrawing rope as well and uncoiling it. "No sand seals, no horse—"

"But his horse should be in Gerudo City," Khana realized. "Barta—"

"Go get it, then!" Ohnga snapped, eyes narrowed. " _Go!_ He doesn't have time for—"

But Khana was already gone, sucked into the Gash. Without wasting any time she sprinted through the shadow world, releasing the laws of reality that dictated the length of a second and the distance one could travel on foot. Her mind ached from the effort; her gashed side stung and oozed blood despite her sister's magic… but each zooming step flew her closer and closer to Link's chance for survival.

With a pounding heart she sprinted as fast as she could, fighting against the exhaustion and emotional trauma of the past few days—the past few _hours._ Panic fluttered up through her soul, attacking her grip on reality, battering away at her concentration with each flying step she took, with each sharp breath she gulped. _The Yiga Clan—Khoga—dead—Link!_ The sight of blood. She would rather see his skin ashy gray than crimson with his own blood any day. _The Goddesses—curse them! He's spilled enough blood for them! Shouldn't have to shed more!_

Her feet pounded down, leaving behind ripples of light slowly fading. Her heart throbbed painfully fast in her chest; would it burst? She'd never run so hard, so fast. _Link… Link… Link…_ She focused her thoughts on him; his kind smile, his gentle heart, his courage, _oh, Din! That ritual…_ Tears pricked her eyes and the desert soared away beneath her feet, rolling dunes and ancient columns and boulders and cacti and at last—the sandstone wall encircling Gerudo City.

Khana remained in the Gash and allowed time to pass a little faster; she scoured the city, searching for a silver-splotched mare; everywhere were Gerudo and Hylians, vendors and buyers, children and adults—no horse. _Focus, Khana! Where would Mist go after Barta returned?_

She wanted to slap herself when the answer struck her mind, but there wasn't time for that. Without wasting another elongated half-second she darted to Dalia's little garden; sure enough Mist was there with the gaggle of little girls. Khana appeared in the sheltered alley behind the little plot of dirt so as not to frighten the children and snatched a scarf from the Gash.

"Khana!" Dalia yipped, flinging her arms around her waist as soon as she drew near. "You're okay! When Mist came back and you weren't there and Barta said what—"

"Link—Liela—is dying," Khana interrupted hoarsely, gently pushing the little girl's hands away. "He's the man who saved you from that monster, remember?"

Dalia looked confused for a moment, and then horror dawned on her round, youthful features. Khana turned away, her heart pounding, threatening panic. She marched towards Mist and bound the scarf over the little mare's dark eyes; if Mist saw the Gash she might spook. Ignoring Dalia and her friends' identical looks of concern and fear, she tugged the little mare into the crimson shadow world.

Mist jerked her head up, nostrils flaring and ears twitching anxiously as she shifted from one hoof to another. It was evident that she'd noticed something had changed. Khana inhaled deeply, willing the static air of the Gash to fill her with peace and strength. Gently she stroked Mist's sturdy neck. "You have to trust me," she whispered. "One last time. Link's in trouble again."

She lifted herself up onto the little mare's back and dug her heels into her sides, sending her charging through sandstone walls and buildings, feet hovering in midair within the Gash. Mist's great panting breaths seemed to echo on, dragging beyond the usual flow of time; her hoofbeats came down with muffled thumps and a faint ringing of bells, each step illuminated by rippling light. Strange shadows danced across her coat, circular and symmetric, moving slightly as if stirred by a breeze. Khana could only imagine how odd the Gash felt to the little horse; clearly it had a significantly different effect on her than on hominids.

A rush of affection washed over Khana's heart. Mist had to be the bravest animal she'd ever encountered—smart enough to know she'd been taken to a different place, smart enough to understand that her beloved master was in danger, brave enough to trust Khana to guide her.

The little horse was gathering speed. Her flanks heaved; her legs flailed out in front of her, desperate to carry her back to Link. But Khana couldn't let her tire out before Link was safe; concentrating, she manipulated the Gash, letting Mist's strides stretch farther and farther over the rolling sands, hoofbeats drumming a fierce battle-cry through the crimson shadows of the otherworld. Khana couldn't help the wild grin that stretched her features despite the dire situation. Mist was quite literally flying over the desert, and Khana felt her heart swell like a balloon, filling her with weightless elation.

Somehow, even blindfolded, Mist knew when she'd arrived. She slowed gracefully to a halt, allowing Khana to slide down from her shoulders and bring them both back to reality.

"That was fast," Ohnga muttered distractedly, her features tight with concentration as she pressed her glowing crimson hands to the gaping wound in Link's shoulder.

"Can I do anything?" Khana asked, hovering over Link's still form. _Farore, don't take him!_ He looked… _lifeless._

"Find some bandages," her sister grunted, a bead of sweat trickling down her nose. "I… I can't…"

Khana understood. Ohnga's limited knowledge of shadow magic wouldn't be enough to entirely heal the devastating wound—it hadn't even been enough to heal Khana's much less severe injury—but it could ensure the hero's survival at least until they reached Gerudo City.

Khana took the scarf from Mist's eyes and dusted it off as best she could before tearing it into strips; Ohnga leaned back with a weary sigh, the red glow fading from her hand and leaving it dripping with Link's blood. "Perhaps… we should just end it," she murmured, her voice dry with fatigue. "It would be the merciful thing to do…"

Khana knelt down with the remnants of her scarf. "I'm not giving up so easily," she protested. "If he wanted to die, he would have done it by now." He was fighting a desperate battle, she told herself; she could see it in the crease of his brow and the clench of his fists. _Either that, or he's just in extreme pain._ She shuddered, trying to assure herself that it wasn't selfishness that drove her in this attempt to save his life. _Link… you'd better not die. I couldn't stand to lose you._

She pressed a bundled-up swath of cloth to his chest, ignoring the groan that rasped from his lips, and bound it tightly in place. There was a nasty hole in his back as well, slightly lower and smaller; Khana wrapped that one, while Ohnga bandaged the deep cut on his left side and his gashed thigh. By then they were out of scarf; fortunately the fresh lashes on his back had stopped bleeding by then.

Ohnga stepped into the Gash for a moment and emerged clothed in civilian attire instead of her Yiga bodysuit. "I'll go on ahead to the city and try to explain," she said, bending down to help her sister lift the hero onto Mist's back. She flashed a solemn grin. "I was a prisoner of the Yiga as well… accused of having aided the hero. Link saved me, as he saved you and Barta." She grimaced slightly, moving to Mist's other side to shift Link into a slightly more comfortable position than lying face-down over the mare's shoulders. "Not exactly the truth, but if it convinces them to help…"

Khana gripped her sister's forearm. "Thank you," she whispered; all of a sudden the heart-aching panic that had threatened to overwhelm her was replaced by sudden gratitude planting tears in her eyes. "I just… _thank you."_

"You showed me the way," Ohnga shrugged, but there was an uncharacteristic catch in her voice. "Now get going. The hardest part lies before us."

With a crackle of sparks, she was gone, no doubt reappearing in Gerudo City moments later. Determined, Khana vaulted onto Mist's back and spurred her onwards, one hand in the little horse's mane and the other curled firmly around Link's torso. The mare needed little guidance, sprinting back the way they'd come, towards the smudge of sandstone walls on the horizon.

A thin stream of blood trickled from Link's bruised lips.


	19. Chapter 19

**Okay, so this is the last chapter in this story in which poor Link has to go through so much physical pain. It gets better for him from here, at least in that aspect! There are still quite a few other trials he'll have to overcome, but that said... we're in the homestretch! Only a few more chapters after this one. Thank you all for hanging in there with me!**

* * *

 **19\. Respite**

" _Open your eyes…"_

 _Not… again…_ Link thought, barely able to muster the cognizance to form words in his own mind. _I'm… trying…_

He felt… pain. The world around him was a thick fog that filled his ears and eyes and head; everything else was fiery pain and icy cold. Weakness gripped his limbs as blood throbbed from his body.

 _I'm… dying… again?_ But that wasn't right; he couldn't die yet. What about Khana? And Ganon? The age-old evil threatening to destroy the world? The Princess couldn't possibly last forever; if Link died, so would her chance for survival. She would lose her life. And so would Impa. And Rhondson. And Kachoo.

And Khana.

 _Can't… let that… n…_

But it _was_ happening; he could feel it and it was agonizing. He wanted to scream, to writhe, to escape this terrible pain; instead he twitched, letting out a hoarse groan. It was all he had the strength for.

 _Breathe,_ he told himself, clinging to the distracted tendrils of cognizance that stubbornly remained in his mind. _Keep… breathing. If I'm… breathing… I'm not dead…._

So he focused what little energy he had left on his lungs and felt himself fill them with air. _Nayru's love!_ He couldn't bite back a wheezing cry; the pain burned worse. _Ganon… doesn't want me… to breathe,_ he thought, losing himself a little bit more. _Gotta… defeat…. Him…_

Darkness swallowed him whole. He was aware of nothing but daggers of pain, stabbing into him over and over and over...

* * *

Ohnga reappeared just behind a dune and began the short sprint to the city, ignoring the burn of the sun on her back. Trying to ignore the turmoil churning in her soul. Conflicting memories—Khoga's leadership, his kindness; his callous treatment of Khana and ruthless torture of Link—warred for control, but she couldn't face that now. Not when Khana was depending on her.

If there was one thing Khoga had taught her, it was that family ties mattered. The Clan had been her family, hers and Khana's; after a fire burned their home and their parents, after weeks of wandering the Gerudo Highlands, bearing the cruel, icy breath of the wild, they stumbled into Karusa Valley. Khoga found them and nursed them back to health… and welcomed them into the Clan, emphasizing the importance of loyalty and friendship, the ties of a familial group.

The Yiga Clan was the only family Khana had ever known. For her to turn their back on them… Ohnga had been furious at first. And then, of course, when she saw how Link was tortured and her sister was sentenced to a merciless death… Ohnga remembered that Khana was the only _real_ family she'd ever had. Family ties mattered.

And Khoga…

 _I'll worry about that later,_ she told herself sternly, marching somewhat breathlessly into the city. The palace was ahead; Ohnga felt a pang of guilt remembering that the last time she had been there was during the Yiga Clan's theft of the Thunderhelm. Pushing aside the regret, she stormed forward, determination boiling in her veins. She pushed through the crowds of women and children, all of them smiling and carefree, going about their daily lives, so helplessly oblivious to Link's fight for his life, and to Khana's desperate struggles to save him.

Ohnga felt sick.

"Khana?"

She whirled around, eyes narrowed in surprise. A tall Gerudo stood behind her, somehow familiar. "I… I'm not Khana," she told the woman. "I'm her sister."

Instantly the Gerudo's face fell. "Do you know where she is? Is she safe? Merciful Din…"

"Khana is fine… Barta," Ohnga promised. More guilt burned in her blood as she remembered the woman's name.

The Gerudo smiled gratefully. "She saved me from that awful place," she explained. "The Yiga Clan… oh, thank _Hylia_ she's alright! And Link—is he—"

"He's dying," Ohnga interrupted curtly. "He… saved me from the Yiga Clan. And Khana as well. They're on their way, but he's badly wounded, and we need to get him treated. That's why I'm here—I know your city does not welcome men, but Link won't live long enough to reach Kara Kara Bazaar. Gerudo City is his only chance." A note of desperation had entered her voice unintentionally… She admired the boy's courage, and… yes, he did seem kind enough. But besides that… Khana loved him, and Ohnga was loathe to let someone her sister cared about slip away.

Barta, looking stricken, seized her hand and darted forwards, rushing up to the palace. "Only Lady Riju might be able to help," she puffed, dragging Ohnga through the colorful crowds.

The next minutes passed in a blur. Ohnga was painfully aware of her heart beating within her and wondered if Link's still beat as well. There had been so much blood.

When they stumbled into the palace, half-collapsing in a breathless heap at Riju's feet, Ohnga explained the story she'd cooked up. Link had saved her and her sister (both of them innocent travellers) from the Yiga Clan's clutches. Then Barta, close to tears, described Link's attempt to rescue her and the ritual that followed.

"His name is Link?" Buliara growled. "The man who snuck into this city, disgraced Lady Urbosa's name, and escaped from our prisons?"

"He also saved several children," Riju reminded her seething bodyguard.

"He is the Hylian Champion," Ohnga insisted. "He was placed within the Sheikah's Shrine of Resurrection after falling in battle against Ganon and now, a century later, he has awakened—without any memory of who he was and those who played key roles in his past life. But the Goddesses didn't see fit to end his trials there. Since reawakening he has been struck by lightning, stabbed, beaten, broken, imprisoned, and tortured. Can you imagine how lost he must feel? And yet he has chosen to continue in his life of selflessness; he continues to fight for our lives."

Riju lowered her gaze, her features forming a mask of solemnity that looked unnatural upon one so young. She nodded slowly. "As it is a matter of life and death, I will allow an oversight just this once." She lifted her head and raised her voice over Buliara's angry cry of protest. " _However._ We will place him under heavy guard, and no one else is to know he is here. We will not risk such a scandal upon our time-honored traditions."

Ohnga's shoulders sagged in relief. But Riju wasn't finished. "There is a little-used side entrance to the city, and a small infirmary reserved for soldiers. Take your sister there when she arrives with the voe; Buliara will fetch Romah." At Ohnga's nonplussed look, she added, "She runs the Hotel Oasis and quite often treats the wounds of injured travellers."

Ohnga nodded with a respectful bow before hurrying out of the palace, Barta hot on her heels. With renewed urgency she pushed through the crowds as the sun blazed overhead, overwhelmed by the scent of sweat, scent of fruit, scent of water and desert sand… The shadow of palm trees cast down a pitiful respite from the overheated air, rent with peals of laughter and the cries of vendors calling out their wares and bubbling strands of conversation… Faces blurred past her as she pushed between them, friends, sisters, mothers, daughters…

Ohnga stepped out of the claustrophobic market and into the wide open sunlight sea of sands; the desert was bleak and empty in stark contrast to the colorful hubbub of the city.

Out of the horizon's haze charged a silver-splotched mare, her sides streaked with blood that was not hers. Ohnga's stomach lurched.

* * *

Khana could feel herself losing her grip on reality. And she could feel Link losing his grip on life. His body was limp in her arms, his skin bleached nearly white from blood loss, and _Nayru's love,_ he was _cold._ Yet his breaths rasped on, blood trickling from his lips in a steady stream. It seemed that he was living on borrowed time, that anything they tried could never be enough to save him. How could _anyone—_

Two figures were sprinting towards her from Gerudo City's main gates. Khana slumped with relief. Ohnga and Barta.

"This way!" Ohnga called out, her face a tense mask of concern. "Around the wall—side entrance—"

 _The same way we escaped,_ Khana remembered, slowing Mist to a trot and allowing Barta and Ohnga to come up beside her; together they reached the side entrance and met Buliara standing next to an older Gerudo with gaudy teal lipstick. She whitened at the sight of the hero.

"What… on Farore's green earth… is _that?"_ she whispered, eyes wide.

"This is Link," Khana answered stiffly. Carefully she lowered him into Barta and Ohnga's arms before dismounting and allowing a waiting soldier to take the breathless, sweat-soaked Mist away. "The leader of the Yiga Clan did this to him."

The Gerudo bit her lip; looking slightly squeamish, she nodded. "I'll do what I can," she promised. "Khana, right? I'm Romah." She bent down to help Ohnga and Barta transfer the hero to a stretcher; carefully the three of them lifted him up, and Buliara led them into a small, cave-like room built into the city walls. Herbs hung from the ceiling; vials of elixirs and strange-looking organisms floating in transparent fluid decorated the shelves lining the walls. Khana helped them slide Link onto the waiting bed; Buliara took Barta's arm and gently led her out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Romah scrubbed her hands in a steaming basin of water with a slight wince and motioned for Khana and Ohnga to do the same. Khana scoured her hands as if blaming them for the pain Link had suffered; drying them on a clean rag she hastened to return to his side. "Can you help him?"

Romah raised an eyebrow. "I… I'll certainly try," she said, grabbing a bottle of red liquid from the shelves of medicine. "This should help; it'll stop the internal bleeding. Tilt his head up."

Khana was swift to obey, and Romah poured the bottle's contents down his throat. But almost instantly Link went rigid, muscles tightly clenched, and a strangled cry burst from his lips as his chest heaved sporadically. Romah frowned, eyes wide with surprise; she opened her mouth to speak but Link interrupted her with a terrible scream, a howl of agony that rasped up out from his bloodstained mouth as he jerked feebly, convulsing with fresh pain.

"What was in that?!" Khana demanded, her heart burning as Link whimpered and twitched on the bed.

"Just—just lizard blood, a-and bokoblin guts, and a lynel hoof," Romah protested, perplexed, wringing her hands in despair.

A shrill of horror jerked through Khana's veins, and she exchanged a mortified look with Ohnga. _Monster parts…_

"Link is deathly allergic to monsters," Ohnga lied swiftly, somehow managing to keep her voice calm. "We need to get that potion out of him."

Romah nodded, brow knit in concentration. "Grab that bucket by the table." Then she stuck two fingers deep down Link's throat and wiggled them around, causing the poor hero to convulse more violently than before. Khana winced; it was a difficult situation. The potion would quite possibly kill him if it remained in his body, if his reaction was any indication, but forcing him to vomit it back up would cost him precious strength. There was no way to know for certain if their course of action was correct.

Link finally managed to throw up, Khana holding him on his side while Ohnga held a wooden pail in place to catch the potion, blood, and stomach acid that tumbled from his quivering lips. Then he went limp, shivering weakly, his face entirely devoid of color as tears dripped down his cheeks. Khana wondered if her heart was breaking. _It's not fair!_ she wanted to scream. _He's been through enough—let him rest!_

Romah didn't waste another second; she unwound the makeshift bandages around the devastating gash beneath the hero's collarbone and replaced it with a neatly-folded, clean white cloth. "Hold that down, and press right here," she instructed, indicating the area between his heart and the wound, and Ohnga obeyed, pushing the cloth down while digging her fist into his shoulder. Romah moved on to the cut on his thigh, removing the bandages there and holding another cloth down; it didn't take long for the ooze of blood to cease, and she applied another cloth, this one smelling strongly of alcohol. Link's breath caught for a moment and his body spasmed weakly; he lacked the strength now to scream.

Khana began to pray in earnest, mentally pleading with the Goddesses to spare his life, to give him strength, to ease his pain…

Romah stitched the gash in his thigh closed and wrapped it tightly in soft cloth before moving to the cut over his ribs. Khana washed the dried blood from his chest and Romah sterilized the wound with expert hands. Quickly she sewed the two sides together and bound it tightly; through it all Link barely responded, emitting only feeble whimpers as his body twitched in agony.

By then the flow of blood from the wound beneath his collarbone had slowed enough for Romah to begin working on it. She wiped the blood away and patted it clean with an alcohol-saturated cloth and stitched shut the openings in his chest and back before tying a bandage over it. Blood trickled from his lips.

"He's lucky," Romah at last broke the silence. "It was a clean cut. Straight in, straight out. It's deep and horrible but I think… he might be able to recover. Keep pressing down, alright?"

Khana took over for her sister; at the feel of his cold, sweat-damp skin she nearly balked. He didn't feel like a living man at all.

Romah hurried on to the whiplashes all across his body, carefully cleaning those as well. "He's frightfully weak," she explained as she worked. "Though these are smaller cuts, any of them could kill him if they became infected."

Khana nodded, but she hadn't really processed th Gerudo's words at all. Link's features were slackening, no longer cinched with pain. His short, rasping breaths were fewer and farther between. And his heartbeat… she could barely feel it beneath his clammy neck…

"We need to get these cuffs off," Romah muttered, lifting the hero's wrist and eyeing it carefully. "These cuts are showing the first signs of infection, but I can't get to them."

Khana's heart pounded faster. More complications. "Is there a blacksmith? A bladesaw? I heard something about a Sheikah who—"

Ohnga cut her panicked ramblings off with a wave. "I'll go find help," she promised, gripping Khana's arm as she turned to leave. "I'll scour the entire kingdom if I have to."

Romah gaped at her for a solid second before returning to the lashes across Link's shoulders. "You can't possibly—it's not at all—he would _die,"_ she finally found the right words, "before you looked through everyone in the _kingdom."_

Ohnga flashed a quick smile over her shoulder. "My sister and I have Sheikah heritage. Their magic is our birthright. I'll be back by tomorrow evening with someone who can remove those cuffs."

And her voice was so sure, so confident, just like it always was, that Khana believed her. She turned back to Link, pressing down on his shoulder with one hand while her other stroked his face. " _You can pull through,"_ she whispered, not knowing whether she was trying to comfort him, or herself.


	20. Chapter 20

**Okay, so… I realized after posting the last chapter that there was going to be one more physically-intense scene for Link. But this is a memory, and so technically it already happened to him and isn't causing him any additional pain, and this was a scene that I've wanted to write for a long, long time. Now, in the context of this story, the Link/Zelda relationship is, of course, NOT being emphasized; I may end up writing another version of this memory in a different story at some future date to bring that aspect in. Anyway… this, for real this time, is the absolute last time Link is beaten within an inch of his life. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **20\. Between Life and Death**

 _Ganon… he had been so much stronger. Hopelessly stronger. And with the guardians and the Divine Beasts now possessed…_

We never stood a chance, _Link thought sadly, limping through the trees._

 _They were so close. So close to safety just beyond Fort Hateno. And yet so far—the Blatchery Plain seemed to stretch on forever. After running for so many days, fleeing Hyrule Castle as fast as they possibly could, this last stretch of land between them and possible refuge looked to Link like an insurmountable challenge._

 _For the guardians had caught up with them at last._

 _Near the beginning of their flight, Link had managed to throw them off, laying a false trail, releasing every last one of the horses held in the stables just across the moat from the castle—somehow they'd survived Calamity Ganon's original attack—while he and Zelda fled in the opposite direction on their two steeds._

 _Link's heart burned. Two wonderful, brave animals that they'd been forced to leave behind as the rain, pouring down from the weeping heavens and turning solid dirt to slippery mud, rendered the road too dangerous for them._

 _So many lost… friends left behind, friends left for dead, faces, places that would never be seen by living soul again._

 _He could hear the guardians approaching, the whirring of their legs clacking against river stones._

" _There's a cave just ahead," Zelda said, her voice hushed as she clung to his side. "On a little island in the river. It was marked on the Sheikah Slate—would we be safe there?"_

 _Link shook his head slowly. "If… they found us… we'd be cornered," he coughed, pressing a bloodied hand to his ribs. Swollen lumps rose from his chest—ribs broken when a guardian lifted him in one claw and hurled him through a crumbling building days ago now. "Past Fort Hateno… we could keep running… if we needed."_

 _Zelda looked at him fearfully, emerald eyes wide. She was bruised and muddy from the furious onslaught of rain and monsters, but Link felt a surge of triumph in that he'd managed to protect her from worse injuries._

 _Their friendship had progressed in the months, the years, they'd been forced into one another's presence. Not in a romantic way… she felt like his sister, if anything. And he knew that he would protect her, like a sister, like family, to the death._

 _But he couldn't protect her from the fear in her eyes—he'd never been good with words; he couldn't find the right ones to reassure her._

" _Will you be alright?" she asked, tears in her eyes. "Link, I… when will you get it through that thick head of yours that_ you're not immortal? _You're... the only one I have left now. You can't leave, too!"_

 _He opened his mouth to offer a snarky response, one that would perhaps make her smile and stall the fear for a moment at least, but he was distracted by the sudden appearance of a red target on her arm. "They've found us!" he hissed, snatching her hand and dragging her forwards, yanking her behind a tree just as the guardian fired, missing by a hair. Singing her dress._

 _And then they were running again, running and running, just as they'd been doing for_ days. _Guardians were pouring out of the pass between the Duelling Peaks, hearts swivelling from side to side, firing at anything that moved._

 _Too late he heard the whoosh of a laser. Pain exploded in his back and he cried out, blown off of his feet and tumbling face-first into the muddy ground._

"Link!"

 _She'd stopped running. Not good. Guardians coming. Link pushed himself up to his feet, fighting back a scream as agony flared up through his back, left of his spine. Hot blood dripped down. "Go," he grunted, forcing himself to run._ "Go!"

 _Another burst of guardian fire shot past them, and that seemed to kick Zelda back into the reality that her life was in danger. At Link's urging she turned and sprinted through the trees towards Fort Hateno. Link followed her for several paces. "Go!" he shouted. "We can make it!"_

 _Then he stopped running. He just couldn't do it anymore, and he_ would not _drag Zelda down to death with him._ Gotta give them something to hunt. Save the Princess.

 _Eyes narrowed, he waved his arms above his head, glaring at the army coming towards him. He glanced back, saw Zelda sprinting for Fort Hateno, oblivious to his absence._

 _A red target appeared on his chest. Link raised the Master Sword and swung, deflecting the beam of light and sending it back to the guardian that had fired it. One down, too many to go._

 _A beam of light caught him in the chest and he was thrown off of his feet, landing in a battered heap in a shallow pond. He didn't scream—Zelda would hear, would turn back—and the effort nearly cost him his consciousness. The water was turning red from his blood. He didn't dare look down._

 _He pushed himself to his feet, coughing blood from his lungs and feeling as if his chest was breaking open with the action. Another laser shot towards him and he crumpled to the ground just in time; it passed harmlessly over his head and he forced his pulsing body to stad once more._ Just… a little… longer, _he told himself, struggling to hang on to clear thought._

 _He ran, though it felt like pushing through knee-deep mud; the next blow caught his thigh from behind and he felt the bone crack; this time he couldn't hold back the primal scream of pain as he collapsed, wounded, broken, dying. Wind kissed his hair. The scent of damp earth and crushed plants and sweet rain filled his nose. He sucked in a deep, agonizing breath and stood again, hobbling on one leg with the Master Sword digging into the ground, giving him support._

"Link!"

No! _he yearned to shout._ Go back! Get to safety!

 _But he lacked the strength for that._

 _Even as he heard her running towards him, another guardian blast struck his waist, just above the hip bone, and he lost his balance, precarious as it was, falling backwards into the solid ground. The world tumbled around him and he couldn't breathe for several moments. His heart pounded faster, trying to replenish the blood he was losing. Wouldn't work._

 _He felt Zelda tugging his shoulders, dragging him behind a sturdy tree in time to shield them both from yet another blast of fire._ Danger, _he thought, his mind numb._ She's… in danger… family… protect…

 _He rolled to his knees and clawed at the tree until he was more or less on his feet, blocking out the sounds of Zelda's protests. "Fort," he grunted, pointing vaguely. He limped forward, shuddering with pain and the sudden wave of cold that had draped itself over his failing body; he took Zelda's hand, pulling her to safety._ She didn't listen. Gotta keep her safe.

Din… give me strength! Farore… don't take me yet! Nayru… tell her to leave me behind!

 _Mechanical legs clattering towards them. Link pivoted on his good leg and raised the Master Sword, a broken blade that reflected his broken body. With a desperate cry he charged forward, weapon raised high, and hacked at the oncoming guardian before it had time to fire; he stabbed its glowing eye and staggered back as it died. By then a second guardian had approached; the red of its laser gleamed on Link's bloody chest. With a wild swing he deflected the blast of light back at the machine before falling forward, losing his balance to his own momentum and crashing to his knees. In an instant Zelda was at his side. "Don't do this," she begged, gentle hands on his shoulder as he wept. "You're tearing yourself apart—it's not worth it!"_

 _She didn't understand! "I'm… already dying," he slurred, pressing a hand to his chest in pain. "You… can still escape…" He tried to smile at her._

 _Her eyes were wide with desperation. "Link, you stubborn_ fool! _Save yourself!_ Go! _I'll be fine! Don't worry about me—run!" She was tugging on his shoulder and it hurt. He felt disappointed that she would believe, after all they'd been through, he would abandon her to save his own skin._

" _You first," he muttered, leaning on his blade and using it to shove himself to his feet. A guardian crawled over the remnants of its fellows, its head swivelling for a moment before it spotted Link and focused its gaze, preparing to fire. Link stood tall, ready to die; he had no strength left to lift his sword._

"No!" _Zelda roared, pushing in front of him. And at long last, pure golden light burst from her hand, a wave of power that flooded outwards over the field, a wave of warmth and protection that filled Link's weary soul with peace._ She did it, _he thought woozily, and as the malice abandoned the army of guardians bearing down on them, leaving them lifeless husks crumpling to the fields, his legs buckled beneath him and he fell heavily to the ground. Rain kissed his upturned face and pounded painfully into the wounds open on his chest , blinding his vision. Agony burned in his body; blood scalded him as it abandoned his veins, and it choked him as he struggled to breathe. Weakly he coughed._

 _He was fading. Even the pain was slowly going away as darkness overtook his senses. He was just barely aware of Zelda hovering over him, eyes filled with tears. She was holding him… speaking to him… "You're going to be just fine…"_

 _He looked at her, limp, fading fast._ She… is… safe… _It was so difficult to think. To breathe. To live._

 _With a final shallow groan of pain, the darkness took him._

* * *

 _There was light. One by one, like sparks catching into flame, his senses returned. Grass poked softly into his back; birds whistled as water trickled somewhere nearby. The scents of the wild—flowers, dry soil, crushed plants—filled his nose with each calm breath. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light; he could see dark green leaves above his head, through which a bright sun filtered down._

 _He sat up slowly, not knowing exactly what to think. He was in…_ paradise. _The forest glade around him was beautiful; it was wild and free, serenaded by the songs of river and wind and bird and insect that gently soothed the memories of pain and darkness he'd so recently experienced. The forest glade around him was impossibly perfect, lush and green and warm._

Did I die again? _he thought, afraid._ What about Khana? Ganon? Zelda?

" _Well, well…"_

 _Link turned around and got to his feet. A woman was walking towards him, clad in a long, flowing dress the color of pale lichen; her skin was dark like rich soil or the bark of a tree, and her long hair was the lush green of the grass she stood upon/ A crown of flowers rested slightly askew upon her brow. Her eyes were a startling blue, like the ocean off the shore of Lurelin Village. She smiled sadly. "Welcome back to the Sacred Realm, Link."_

" _You're… Farore," he realized, a thrill shooting through him. Quickly he dropped to his knees._ Maybe I'm imagining this… it _can't_ be real… Wait. " _I've been here before?"_

 _Farore nodded slowly. "For a time. But it was different then._

 _He could feel his heart speeding up. "I—I don't remember that."_

" _I told you then that you wouldn't." She chuckled lightly. "But you'll remember it this time."_

 _His heart lurched._ This is the Sacred Realm. If I was here before, but now I don't remember it, it must have happened before the Shrine of Resurrection. Which means… " _It happened," he croaked, feeling suddenly weak. He was glad he was kneeling down. "I died again!"_

 _Farore smiled kindly. "Not this time," she promised. "And_ this _time, I didn't even have to interfere." She blushed prettily. "Well… maybe a little."_

" _Interfered?"_

" _You were very much dead last time," she explained. "But your princess was willing to fight for you, and for her land, and the Sheikah had unearthed the Shrine of Resurrection months before. Or was it years?" She laughed. "Your sense of time is often confusing; forgive me. But anyway… they took your body there and hoped it would be enough to bring you back, to give you and the princess one more shot at saving the world._

" _Of course, as the Goddess of Life, I alone had the power to restore your soul to your body," she continued. "And if your allies had not been so willing to fight for you and for Hyrule, Nayru would not have let me proceed." She smiled, her eyes kind. "In the end, I left it up to you. And you chose to return, even knowing it would cost you your memories."_

 _Link could still feel a growing panic welling within him. "But… I'm not dead now?"_

" _No," Farore clasped her hands together. "You live, for now. I had to pull a few strings, of course, keep your heart beating and your blood regenerating and all that, otherwise you would be here to stay."_

 _Link felt his shoulders relax, and the bile in his throat was fading. Alright, the Sacred Realm, the goddess Farore, the fact that he wasn't dead…_

 _It was great. But he was done now. He wanted to wake up, to see that Khana was safe, to get back to what he was supposed to be doing. "Can I… can I go back now?" he asked meekly, refusing to meet her eyes._

 _She beckoned for him to rise, and he obeyed, glancing up at her face. Her features were quite suddenly stern and hard, and he wondered uneasily if he'd offended her somehow._

" _We are not here without reason," she told him. "I have a message to convey. You very nearly lost your life again. We cannot give you any more second chances; we have broken the laws binding us one time already and we cannot do so again. The next time you die… you_ die. _So do not fail. Go forth with the power of spirit you possess, with your endless bold courage, and with wisdom and foresight as well. My sister Nayru counsels that you proceed with perhaps a little more caution than before."_

 _Link lowered his head shamefully. Was it possible, then, that if he'd been more careful… he could have avoided being…? He wouldn't have been…? The Yiga Clan…?_

 _It was painful to think about._

 _Farore's features softened; she reached out and gently clasped his shoulder with a warm hand that sent a gentle current of energy through his body. "Do not trouble yourself over what happened," she counselled. "The Yiga Clan's powers had grown strong over this past century; I do not know if there was any other way for you to obtain the Thunderhelm. I… am sorry for what you have suffered."_

 _Link swallowed thickly. "Is there a way to… reverse it?"_

" _No," Farore told him simply. "But do not lose hope. There are benefits of being able to understand the tongues of the creatures that roam this world. I give life to all things, remember… and though Ganon's poison has infected the hearts of many, that does not mean that they are all evil beings. Many are simply… foolish. Easily swayed in one direction or another._

" _What the Yiga Clan did to you will last you the rest of your life in Hyrule… but beyond that, beyond death, their actions have no power. I… I hope that comforts you…?"_

 _Link nodded slowly, though in all honesty… he wasn't certain if the goddess' words had helped at all._

 _Farore smiled sadly. "Farewell, hero… and may it be many a long day before we meet again."_

 _The peace and beauty of the Sacred Realm was fading around him. At first it seemed that his eyes were growing suddenly nearsighted; the edges of the objects around him smeared and fuzzed until he could make out only a mass of green with spots of other colors mixed within. Then he lost the feeling in his feet, numbness spreading upwards through his body until he felt as if he were floating helplessly in midair. Colors faded into blinding whiteness and he hovered, blank and empty, in between nowhere and everywhere all at once._

At last, darkness closed in on his body and he began to feel again, burning pain stabbing into his skin, permeating deep into his being; he could feel his muscles tight in response to the agony, fighting back in what way they could. He could feel blankets beneath him and over him; his back was pressed up against an uncomfortable cot with a mattress as solid as a brick. The stench of blood and sweat and the pungent zing of herbs stuffed his nose; his mouth was dry and sore and each shallow breath that whispered into his lungs sent pain ringing through his chest.

Muffled voices sounded around him, indecipherable as different pitches and syllables and timbres melted into one another; beneath his eyelashes he could see warm brown tones with an orange cast, as if lit by a lamp or a candle. But his eyelids were heavy; they slipped closed of their own accord, for he lacked the strength to keep them apart.

 _Merciful Din, I am so weak,_ he thought groggily as he lost himself to dark unconsciousness once more.


	21. Chapter 21

**Okay, so this story is almost over... I'm thinking two or three more chapters, and then we're done! I have a few ideas for the next fanfiction story I'll do and I've put them on a poll on my profile, so... be sure to check it out and let me know what YOU want to see! (All of them will eventually get done; it's just a matter of when!) Enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

 **21\. In Darkness**

Link was consumed by the uncanny sensation of drifting. Sometimes he was nothing, all dark numb nothingness; other times his senses solidified enough for him to discern vague colors, sounds, tastes… and of course, pain. Time did not exist. Thoughts and dreams did not exist. At times, Link doubted that _he_ even existed.

Eventually, however, his mind sharpened and did not recede into blackness again. Slowly, like the sun rising over a foggy bay and bringing light to a black world, he became fully aware of himself. Of his body, nearly bare beneath soft blankets, resting upon a nearly solid mattress. Of the gentle odor of a scented candle wafting through the still, silent air, of his mouth that tasted like blood and foul herbs. He could feel tight bandages around his chest and and wrists and thigh and sides, but the pain in those areas… was not as bad as it had been before.

 _I've been out of it for a while,_ he realized. But this time, at least, he could remember much of what had happened before the nothingness—the Yiga, the lynel, Khoga's death, the battle…

And he remembered remembering his death. _Farore… that was horrible. The end of my life. But I'm… still here…_

Link swallowed tightly. A difficult task, with his throat as dry as it was. _When was the last time I've had anything to drink?_

He blinked slowly; even that tiny movement took much of the little strength that remained in his body. His limbs ached with weakness; his stomach burned with emptiness. _It must have been a long time…_

His foggy mind just barely discerned that he'd croaked that last word out loud. But Khana's joyful voice came across loud and clear.

" _Link!"_

A familiar warmth descended gently upon him, enfolding him within a cozy embrace. "Khana," he rasped, relief scouring his heart. She was safe. She was here. She was… _kissing_ him.

Link closed his eyes, moaning softly in contentment as he mustered his strength to kiss her back. _This… is a nice moment._

"It's been five weeks," she told him breathlessly, finally pulling away. "By all rights… you shouldn't be alive."

"The goddesses wouldn't take me," he whispered, barely moving his lips and remembering his strange dream of the Sacred Realm, Farore admitting that she'd played a part in keeping him alive.

"Good," Khana smiled grimly. "I… I haven't prayed that hard… in a long time." She inhaled shakily, reaching over to grasp his hand. Which, he noticed, was free from Khoga's despicable cuffs, though his wrist was heavily bandaged. Khana noticed his glance. "Ohnga searched the kingdom for _days_ before she found someone who could remove them. A Sheikah scientist named Robbie, who claimed to know you from… before. He'd developed what he called an Ancient Bladesaw; it cut through the manacles, although… it did do some damage to your wrists."

"Can barely feel it now," he rasped with a feeble grin.

Khana nodded. "It was a long, difficult battle that we fought to keep you alive," she murmured. "I… didn't know if you could make it more than a few days. Thank _Farore_ you did…"

She kissed him again, tears trickling down her face. _Yes,_ Link thought. _Thank Farore._

* * *

As his strength gradually began to return, Link worked hard to build the muscle he'd lost from five weeks of doing nothing. Riju allowed him the use of her warriors' training grounds at night, after everyone else had gone. It was there that he realized more had changed with his eyes than just their color—he could _see_ in the darkness, objects and shadows and even some colors in sharp definition. Khana told him that his pupils, heavily dilated, reflected light the way a beast's did.

Though her word choice had been much less… dehumanizing.

She trained with him every night; at first, despite his heightened nightvision, she disarmed him every round. But as his strength returned, each bout lasted longer and longer, until at last he was the one winning nearly every round.

During those battles, he could forget, for a little while at least, that he was a monster, a creature whose life had begun only a few months ago, a lost soul with dreamlike flashes of memories that once belonged to him.

Memories of a father. Of a princess. Of death.

He realized, from those few glimpses of his past, that he had not changed. He was still the same person, perhaps a little bolder, perhaps a little stronger. His essential traits were the same, and that knowledge brought him peace. His personality had no holes.

"What are you thinking about?" Khana asked softly, her feet crunching softly on the sand as she made her way to the rock he perched upon.

"I'm ready to move on," he murmured, gazing with crimson eyes up at the moon. "And not just from the desert, although… I'm ready to leave that as well."

She sat down beside him and curled an arm around his waist, tucking her head beneath his chin. Link wrapped his arms around her, marvelling at how perfectly she fit in his embrace. With a soft sigh he rested her head against hers.

"I've been given a second chance," he continued. "What happened before… _happened before._ A hundred years ago. The Princess and I, and perhaps a few of the Sheikah, are the only ones left of that time. Trying to remember what happened then… what's the point? The Hyrule that I once knew, and the _people_ that I once knew, cannot be reclaimed. And… I don't need those memories to know who I am—I've been able to learn that on my own." He inhaled deeply at those words, finally spoken out loud; his heart hammered loudly beneath Khana's cheek.

"I know who I am," he whispered. "I'm alive _now;_ I'm creating new memories, and a new life… _now._ I can do nothing to change the past, Khana. I can't bring back those who died, or stop Ganon from arising. There's nothing I can do to _change_ the past."

"But I can still fix _some_ things. I have the chance to do things again, to do it better, to… to _succeed_ this time." He smiled softly, feeling freedom buoy his heart. "Someday, perhaps… I might try to remember my past. I… I know it's selfish of me not to remember now, and not honor the memories of those who died because I have no memory to—"

"Link," Khana interrupted, looking up at him. "You are _not_ selfish. Not in the slightest. The world has been unfairly cruel to you; I think it's best, for your sanity if nothing else, that you leave the past where it belongs."

"But—"

She shook her head. "It's like you said," she murmured. "You're alive _now._ Not _then._ What matters most is what you choose to do with your life _right now."_

His heart warmed with love; he bent down and pressed his lips to hers in a deep kiss, Khana tangling her fingers in his snowy white hair and breathing him in.

* * *

They left Gerudo City the following dawn, before the sun arose. The Thunderhelm was stored safely in the Gash, loaned to them with the understanding that they would free Vah Naboris after Vah Ruta was appeased. The Sheikah Slate, too, was returned to them; after bringing Robbie to the desert and taking him back to Akkala when Link's wrists were free, Ohnga had journeyed to Karusa Valley to bring the imprisoned members of the Yiga Clan to face the justice of the Gerudo. Among their stolen treasures she'd discovered the Sheikah Slate and quickly handed it over to her sister's care. Now it hung from Link's belt.

The rest of their supplies were also stored in the Gash. Food, water, a tent, bedrolls, a change of clothes for each of them, and weapons other than the broadsword Link bore across his back and the scimitar strapped to Khana's thigh… there was nothing more that they could think of that they needed. They set out into the lightening desert, east into the rising sun.

Ohnga had assured them that winter had fallen upon Hyrule; Link had hoped that the desert's heat would be tempered. But even before the sun breached the rim of cliffs in the distance, he felt sweat breaking out upon his brow. _It's just my clothing,_ he told himself, glancing briefly downwards. Ashamed of the black scars littering his torso, he was loathe to change into the desert attire provided by Kachoo so long ago; instead he wore a long-sleeved black tunic and long trousers. _Perhaps not the best choice for the desert._

For a few hours, he tried to endure the sun's glare. But by midday, engulfed in a sweltering vise of sweat, he succumbed to desperation.

"Kh-Khana?" he began, as the two of them sat in the shade of a small stand of palms around a tiny spring, eating a small meal of nuts and dried meat. "Erm… do you have that, uh, voe armor in the Gash?"

She looked surprised. "I think so," she replied, reaching a hand into the shadow world and rummaging around for a moment. "Just a moment… Here." She pulled out a bundle of cloth and metal and handed it to him. Confusion scrunched her brows.

"Thanks," Link said, cheeks warming slightly as he took the clothes and hurried to the other side of the trees. Quickly he pulled off his tunic, boots, and trousers, replacing them with the armor Kachoo had given him. Then he returned to Khana's side.

She raised an eyebrow at him, looking concerned. "Were you… hot?"

Link blinked rapidly. "You weren't?"

Khana shook her head. "I've always thought that desert winters actually feel quite pleasant. Even though they look just as barren as ever."

"Maybe you're just more accustomed to it," Link said, sitting down beside her. His heart was sinking. He didn't exactly know why.

Khana was still staring at him. "Link, it's… only eighty degrees or so."

A thrill shot through him. "Wh-what? No. It… it has to be at least in the hundreds…" He slid the Sheikah Slate from his belt. Seventy-seven degrees. A cold finger curled around his heart. "That… that _can't_ be right…"

It _couldn't._ He was burning up; he was drenched in perspiration. It couldn't be such a… a… _normal_ temperature. It just wasn't possible.

Khana pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "Your skin is too warm," she noted anxiously. "Do you feel nauseous? Are you sore? Do you feel fatigued at all?"

"No," he protested. "And I _know_ I'm not dehydrated…"

Khana looked worried. She got to her feet and headed back to Mist. "We need to get out of here."

Link swallowed thickly and followed her to his horse— _their_ horse?—and climbed up into the saddle. She slid up behind him, arms automatically curling around his torso. _There's something very wrong about this,_ he thought.

Despite the more ventilated attire, he barely felt any difference from before as they set out again. Sweat glistened upon his shoulders and matted his hair; his skin felt almost as if it were on fire, although it didn't darken with sunburn. _Is there something wrong with me? I_ should not _be feeling this heat!_ Perhaps… because he was no longer Hylian, but a… a monster… perhaps that negated the armor's effect. _Fantastic._

The sun pressed down around him, holding his head in a stifling vise. It reflected off of the white sand, sending daggers of pain through his eyes and giving him a splitting headache. He found himself longing for the comforting shadows of night, so gentle on his eyes.

He drifted through a haze of discomfort, his skin on fire and damp with sweat, nearly blind as he peered through his lashes. Only when the sun began to set and twilight descended did he finally feel at ease. The flames left his skin and his eyes adjusted quickly to the encroaching darkness; the pain fled.

Link turned to Khana as they dismounted, still quite some distance from the Kara Kara Bazaar. "I think I know what's wrong," he told her softly. "I'm… a dark creature. A beast of the night. The ritual in the moon chamber completely changed my body, from something well-adapted to living in daylight… to something exactly the opposite." _A monster._ Although, he admitted to himself, not all monsters were nocturnal. Bokoblins and moblins, for instance.

Khana smiled gently at him. "I'd take night over day any time," she noted, tracing a line in the sand with her toe. "I've always preferred the shelter of shadow."

Link squinted at her. "I… what are you saying…?"

"So you're nocturnal," she shrugged, looking deep into his eyes. "Then I'll be nocturnal too."

Link's shoulders sagged. _I don't think it's that simple!_ "But—you're a Hylian, like—like I was! It's against your—"

She raised a finger to his lips, her head tilted to the side. "My grandfather was Sheikah, on my mother's side," she explained. "Ohnga met him once, before I was born. And Sheikah are the _shadow_ folk—I'm certain I can adapt." She took a step closer, eyes narrowed and determined. "Besides that… I love you. I'm not about to let a simple thing like you being nocturnal keep me away from you."

 _She's treating this much too lightly,_ he thought, swallowing tightly. His heart softened. _Because she doesn't want me to feel bad about it._ He reached a hand out as if to touch her face but hesitated halfway there, hand suspended in midair. _She's… given up so much on my behalf._

 _Too much._ His heart sank and he let his hand fall back to his side. _Her family, her way of life, everything she's ever known… Why?_

 _Because she_ loves _you just as much as you love her, you idiot,_ scolded a voice in his head. _When will you learn?_

He cleared his throat. "Well, then… we should keep going tonight. We can walk beside Mist and let her have a break; then in the morning we can stop and rest."

Khana looked slightly disappointed, but she nodded and they continued their dreary voyage across the moonlit world. If not for the cacti, Link thought that the silver-bathed sand would have looked exactly like snow, complete with the cruel, icy temperature that froze everything in its path. A frosty wind whistled over the dunes and he changed back into his dark tunic, more suited for the chill, and they walked until dawn before setting up their tent and falling quickly asleep, all three of them weary from the hours and hours of constant travel.

After two more nights they reached the towering sandstone walls of Gerudo Canyon. Passing the stable, they continued onwards until they came across a pack of mounted stalkoblins riding ghostly skeletal horses. The reanimated spirits of the monsters that Link had killed to save Mist, though he had no idea—and did not want to know—where they'd gotten the stalhorses.

" _Look! It's a bad guy!"_ one of them rasped, nudging his horse clattering forward. " _C'mon, guys! Get 'em!"_

Link swallowed thickly, feeling sick at the realization that he could understand these creatures just as he understood the lynel.

 _Except these aren't communicating mind-to-mind. Weird._

 _Stop!_ he sent out, just as he'd done before.

The bokoblin pulled up short. " _What the… hey, buddy! What are you?"_

" _He doesn't belong,"_ another snarled, walking his horse closer. " _Doesn't smell like us. Doesn't smell like the other one, either!"_

"Link?" Khana whispered in his ear. "What's going on?"

 _We're just passing through,_ he told the monsters. _We mean you no harm. Leave us alone!_

" _Master said to kill ones like you,"_ a bokoblin grunted, picking its nose before apparently remembering it was a skeleton and studying its fingers, disappointed. " _Said they were_ bad guys!"

" _And they fight and kill us, too,"_ another added sadly. " _So… we fight back!"_

 _We don't want to fight you,_ Link promised. _Let us pass in peace!_

The bokoblins tilted their heads, considering. But a low rumble shook the ground, like the growl of a beast the size of a mountain. The moon flickered to red. The stalkoblins' eyes flickered to a deep crimson and they snarled. Pain closed around Link's heart and he stopped breathing, feeling the blood moon's Malice choking him.

 _Enemy,_ a fearsome voice rumbled in his mind, and he clutched at his head, unable to draw breath. _Enemy! Enemy!_

He could not draw breath. The strength fled from his limbs and he tumbled like a bag of rocks from Mist's back, seeing double as Malice scoured his mind… _No!_

Everything went dark.

* * *

 **Don't forget to vote! Until next time!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A quick note on the bokoblins in these next few paragraphs… Their behavior might seem a little OOC, but I have a reason for writing them this way. One of my favorite things to do in Breath of the Wild, though it may seem a little dull at first, is to sneak up on bokoblin camps and watch them from afar. It looks at times like they're sharing stories with one another or dancing wildly, caught up in joy. And in that first blood moon cutscene, the bokoblins look so confused when they're brought back to life; I don't think they'd be very happy about that. I'd also like to note that when Link dons the bokoblin mask, the bokoblins are very welcoming towards him. Hopefully that explains why I've written them the way I have. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **22\. The Hero's Shade**

" _...blood moon…"_

"...up!"

" _...mean Master…"_

" _...must be weaker…"_

"Link!"

He felt himself rising, floating up out of darkness into the night's embrace. The moon shone high above, the red slowly fading away. Khana's face hovered over him, anxious, surrounded by a ring of stalkoblins studying him as well.

Link shook his head, disoriented, and pushed himself into a sitting position. "What happened…?"

" _Master's power,"_ a stalkoblin shuddered, gripping his head. " _Makes us fight again even after we're dead."_

"The blood moon happened, and… you lost consciousness," Khana told him, gripping his shoulder and eyeing the skeletal monsters around them warily. Mist stood a few paces away, watching calmly.

" _We never get to rest,"_ a stalkoblin moaned, gazing longingly at the sky. " _How long has it been? Five seasons? Five times five times five seasons?"_

" _Maybe even_ six _seasons,"_ another offered, counting on her fingers.

It was then that Link realized that bokoblins had a problem with numbers.

" _Here, buddy,"_ a stalkoblin reached his bony hand down to him. Hesitant, Link took it, and the creature pulled him to his feet. " _Master's hard on all of us. You could stay with us, if you like."_

"Th-thanks," Link stammered, taken aback by the monster's compassion. "But… I have some things I need to do."

The stalkoblin looked slightly disappointed and turned back to his steed, waiting nearby. " _Well… okay, then. Good luck out there!"_

"You to," Link murmured, returning to his horse.

Khana matched his pace, looking at him sideways. "You… can understand them."

Link nodded slowly, rubbing Mist's nose as she stretched her head out to greet him. _Nayru… what must she think of me? This just proves it—I_ am _a monster._ "The lynel, too. Only… then, we communicated mentally. I didn't know until now that m… that other monsters could understand me when I speak aloud."

She stood beside him, silent for a moment as he fished a sugar cube out of a saddlebag to give to Mist. Sweet Mist, who had put up with so much on his behalf.

 _Too much._

 _How many people have had to suffer because of me? Because I wasn't good enough?_

Khana spoke at last. "It's a useful skill to have," she assured him. "You… might not ever have to fight a monster again. Besides Ganon."

That should have comforted him. He _knew_ it should have been comforting. But there was a nagging voice in his head that pointed out the flaws in her statement. _It'll only work if I can convince them not to attack. Not all monsters are as dull-witted as…_

He cut off that train of thought quickly, just in case the bokoblins heard it. After all, they'd heard his thoughts before. And he had no idea how to protect his mind.

"That's… a good thing, right?" Khana prodded, looking up into his eyes. Her face shone silver in the moonlight, impossibly beautiful. "Communicating with them…?"

"I'm not exactly very good at communicating," he muttered, swinging onto Mist's shoulders. Khana didn't follow, gazing at him intently. He avoided the violet stare of her eyes. "I've… never been very good at that."

"You managed fine just now," she jerked her head towards the stalkoblins, already back on their horses, wandering aimlessly over the canyon floor. "You think too little of yourself, Link."

 _I think I have a pretty accurate idea of my faults,_ he thought darkly, refusing to meet her gaze. Sighing, she hopped up into the saddle and gripped his waist. "Khana… I need you to tell me honestly." He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. "When I look at myself, I see a monster. Is that what others will see as well?"

She paused for a long moment, the silence filled only by the sharp clopping of Mist's hooves against stones. "I know what _I_ see, Link. And it's not a monster. But as for anyone else… I can't say for sure. I… I'm sorry."

His heart burned with fear.

* * *

The cold breath of winter hovered, mist-like, over the higher reaches of the kingdom. Mountain peaks, northern lands, areas of higher altitudes… they were buried beneath ice and frost and snow; trees shivered and groaned without their leaves, and storms blotted out the cold blue light of the sun.

Though the weather was utterly dismal and many trails were buried time and time again beneath pillows of snow, travellers still managed to forge their way from village to village, outpost to outpost, going on with their businesses, with their lives.

The dangers were many. Ice chuchu, ice keese, ice-breath lizalfos, blizzrobes… creatures that hibernated throughout the warmer months now awakened at last to hunt what food dared emerge.

Beyond the monsters, travellers bore the brunt of of the wild's frosty breath. Frostbite, hypothermia, blizzards and cutting winds… Death, one could argue, was winter's defining characteristic.

Yet… though the lives of many should have been taken, they survived… with extraordinary tales to tell of their near escapes. Many had been mere inches from death, whether under attack from monsters or the wilderness itself, only to be rescued at the last possible moment.

Rescued… by a shadowy figure as dark as the night, with eyes that burned like an ember.

No one seemed to agree about what, exactly, this ethereal enigma was. He was just a man, some argued—a simple, ordinary man, going out doing good deeds. Others protested—what man moved about only at night, with glowing crimson eyes, drifting like a shadow, like a ghost, from place to place? Many swore that they'd seen his face, gray like a corpse's.

There were some things, at least, that the people did agree upon. The mysterious creature did not work alone—a woman travelled with him, a sorceress with the ability to appear and disappear at will.

And all of the travellers agreed that the shadow-creature wielded the Master Sword.

* * *

" _I'm torn, Khana…"_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _Driving away monsters to save the people they're attacking. It's… different now."_

…

" _I suppose that makes sense. You understand both sides now."_

" _And I know that they're not just mindless beasts, like everyone thought. They're capable of ideas, of compassion… And even before I could understand them, I noticed that lizalfos, at least, never attacked unless threatened or desperate. Knowing that… it's difficult to fight them."_

" _But at least you don't kill them. They're still allowed to live their lives."_

" _And perhaps attack someone else. It's not a permanent solution, but I just… I can't bring myself to kill them now. But if I don't… I could be condemning someone else to death. I… I don't know what to do."_

" _I think you're doing the right thing, Link. Who knows—perhaps someday we'll be able to find something that works. But for now… you're doing the right thing. And we need to focus on other things."_

" _Right. Yeah…"_

* * *

Kish flipped through the pages of the Rumor Mill's most recent volume. Usually he didn't read Trasy's articles on the supernatural. He was not a child seeking after fairy tales. Phenomena of nature, explanations of various unique cultures, mysterious artifacts and ruins… Those he read.

But business was slow; winter's icy jaws grasped the kingdom by the neck, making it miserable to be outside. Out of boredom, he decided to read this volume's supernatural article, about something called the Hero's Shade.

"So get this," Trasy had written. "I've heard it from _fifteen_ different sources that a new magical entity is moving throughout the land.

"You've heard of Naydra, of Farosh, and Dinraal. Of the Lord of the Mountain, of the Koroks, of Great Fairies… benevolent spirits that roam this ancient land.

"The notion of rebirth is buried deep within Hyrulean folklore. Those who read my article on Satori Mountain will remember that the local legends say the Lord of the Mountain is the reincarnated spirit of a sage, who continued watching over his homeland even after death. Keep that in mind.

"We all remember with great sadness Calamity Ganon's return one hundred years ago. Countless brave men, women, and children lost their lives in that devastating attack. Fortunately that monster has remained dormant and will hopefully continue to do so, but those who died cannot return to us.

"Among the dead were the four ill-fated Champions, and the Chosen One, hero of the Master Sword, the Hylian Champion. He died defending our last Princess, so the tales say…

"Anyway… you're probably wondering what all of this has to do with this new magical entity. A number of travellers have seen mysterious figures appearing in the nick of time to rescue them from monsters or bring them to shelter. One of the figures, they say, is a sorceress, able to heal wounds with crimson magic and disappear and reappear instantly.

"The other moves as a shadow, silent over the snow, dark as night. Fw have glimpsed his face, but those who have swear that he is the Hylian Champion, the hero who died a century ago. And everyone I've spoken to mentioned that he even bears the Master Sword—the unmistakable blade that shines with the power to repel evil.

"Of course, it's impossible that this is the same man who fell, so long ago. This is but a shadowy remnant of him. It is my personal belief that this dark entity is a fragment of his soul that did not move on, for, like the sage of Satori Mountain, he loved this land too much to leave it entirely behind in death. This part of him remains to protect us now.

"The travellers are calling him the Hero's Shade. I couldn't think of a more fitting name. Trasy's recommendation: +++++."

Kish stared at the words on paper, feeling unexpectedly moved by the words. It was comforting, and a bit exciting, to think that there were entities out in the world playing an active role in keeping people safe.

He had never seen a dragon or a fairy, though he _had_ seen a strange, owl-faced, glowing blue rabbit one night in the nearby woods. And he hadn't seen a Korok, but he thought he'd heard one. The eerie Lost Woods, where Koroks were rumored to live, were practically on his doorstep, just uphill from the stable. As a boy, on a dare, he had once ventured in… only to have mist close in around him, draining him of his consciousness; before everything went black he'd heard a mischievous little cackle.

For some reason, Trasy's article reminded him of that boy he'd dragged from the river so long ago now. To this day, he was the only person Kish had ever met who was actually trying to _do_ something about the dangerous state of the world. He told himself—to salvage his self-confidence—that if _he_ were a youngster with no other responsibilities, no animals or a business to look after, _he_ would have tried to do something, too.

 _But you were that way once,_ a quiet voice reprimanded him. _And you chose the safer path. To work towards the conservation of wild horses, like your father before you, and his father before him._

 _I_ love _horses,_ he protested inwardly. But inside, he felt shrivelled and cold. _I can't believe it… For a hundred years, no one's done_ anything _to fix things…!_

To be fair, a few people had tried. Some had been killed right away by the guardians roaming Hyrule Field. Others somehow made it past the guardians, only to disappear upon entering the castle, never to be seen again. They were presumed dead.

Still others had returned from the castle without facing Ganon. Kish remembered the article Trasy had written about them—people who set out to conquer Ganon and free the land, only to find that the castle was a crumbling ruin with the worst monster infestation and the highest guardian population in the kingdom. But they had also found something else—treasure.

Realizing that they could not conquer Ganon or even half the monsters residing in the castle and still live to tell the tale, they decided to cut their losses, grab as much loot as they could carry, and make a run for it.

Kish sighed heavily. That boy he'd rescued had a noble heart, but he, like all those before him, was doomed to fail.

"Kish…! _Get out here!"_

He jerked in surprise, slamming the Rumor Mill closed at Breen's urgent voice. Expecting monsters, or a dying traveller, or perhaps a mare giving birth, he dashed outside into the frosty winter evening. Snow tumbled softly from the clouds rolling in from the west; the air was still and unnaturally silent.

And in the distance there was a low rumbling.

Breen stood by the paddock, staring out to the east. "There," she gasped hoarsely, pointing into the distance.

"The storms are gone," Kish noticed first. The unnatural, lightning-slashed clouds curled around the mountains of Zora's Domain had vanished.

But then he saw, climbing up a peak in the far distance, a massive creature, an elephantine machine.

A Divine Beast. With lights that shone _blue._

It reached the top of the mountain, and from its jaws a beam of crimson light shot over the kingdom. Kish gaped as it passed by, frighteningly close to the stable, before landing on the castle.

And there it stayed. The Divine Beast did not move, and a thin red line, barely visible, remained in the sky.

" _I have to leave. It's… it's the right thing to do,"_ that boy had said so long ago.

"He did it," Kish murmured, gobsmacked. Breen, beside him, nodded gravely.

It was a tremendous step forward. Unprecedented. Nothing short of a miracle.

* * *

" _Link, I cannot thank you enough. You say Mipha's spirit is…"_

" _Yes. After all of this is over, she'll be able to… move on."_

" _Well… that is good. I am glad. Father will… certainly be relieved to hear it. Are you certain you don't want to tell him yourself?"_

" _Sidon, I… I couldn't. Not like this. You saw what happened when Muzu saw me, and… that little girl…"_

" _My father is no little girl, I assure you! And nor is he quite as prejudiced as that shark, Muzu."_

" _I didn't mean that. I… I just… I can't do this now."_

" _...Very well. But know that I, at least, will always welcome you here as a friend."_

" _Thank you. I will certainly keep that in mind, and… I hope you can understand how grateful I am for that. But… there is one thing… I know I have no right to ask this of you—"_

" _No right?! Link, you just saved us from destruction!"_

" _I… It was mostly you. And Khana."_

" _Link…!"_

" _Look… do you know if a Zora craftsman would be able to forge something… specific… for me?"_

" _Well, you'll have to give me a few more details than that, my friend! But I can certainly ask…"_

* * *

 **Thanks for reading, as always! Still another two chapters left, I think... so don't forget to let me know which idea you'd like me to pursue next:**

 **1\. BOTW: Ganon's malice corrupted guardians, monsters, even a dragon... so why couldn't it corrupt a shrine, too? Specifically... the shrine on Eventide Island! I was always suspicious of that place... we'll see if Link can conquer an entire island filled with enemies with nothing more than whatever he can salvage. ( :**

 **2\. General: Zelda and Ganon are at war; Link is taken as a slave by Ganon's forces and sold into bondage after a life of abuse and misery. Maybe he's the key to ending the war, but can he overcome years of self-doubt and agony?**

 **3\. BOTW: Inspired by my PSY 101 class. Heroes don't just fall from the sky. Zelda's mother and grandmother died fighting Ganon; without a hero to wield the Master Sword, he could not be defeated. Rhoam won't let his daughter face the same fate; when Zelda discovers a shrine that can erase someone's memories, he wonders if it's possible to _create_ a hero...**

 **Please let me know which one you want to see! I can't decide; I will eventually write all three of them, but I don't know which to do first. Feel free to vote on my profile or send me a PM with your opinion, and I'm open to any other suggestions, too!**


	23. Chapter 23

**So just a heads up… this chapter will probably be a little dreary. I tend to write my own problems into my characters, so as a result, Link's having a difficult time mentally right now. I hope that he and I can find a solution. Oh, and don't forget to please vote!**

* * *

 **23\. Ice**

There was no horse in the kingdom that could match Mist.

The brave little mare had pushed through blizzards, journeyed through the Gash to the Lost Woods, navigated the icy slopes of the road leading up to Zora's Domain…

Any normal horse would have died. But she'd refused to be left behind. It broke Link's heart, seeing her risk her life just to accompany him. So after Vah Ruta had been freed, Khana and Link had taken her one last time through the Gash to the Woodland Stable, where Kish and Breen could take care of her. Mist _hated_ the Gash—Link could see it in her eyes. Which was why they didn't use it unless they absolutely had to. They travelled part of the way on horseback, but as they neared the castle, the presence of guardians only increased. And Mist was an incredible animal, but it would only take one hit from a guardian to kill her.

So they warped through the Gash by night. At the Woodland Stable, Link hesitated by his mare's side, eyeing the warm, glowing torchlight from within. Snow was falling; he was freezing, and he was certain Khana and Mist were just as cold as he was. But still he waited in the shadows, afraid.

Possibilities coursed through his mind, none of them pleasant. What on earth would Breen and Kish do if they saw him? Would they run in fear? Would they drive him away like a beast—like the beast he was? Would they scream and shout and plead for mercy?

It was enough to shrivel his heart with guilt.

"Link," Khana had murmured, laying a gloved hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone. I'll be with you, remember?"

He inhaled slowly, shaking. _Courage. Take courage._ Khana's presence filled him with courage. "Alright," he murmured. He held Mist's reins gently in one hand; his other was caught in Khana's reassuring grasp. Together they stepped up to the stable's main building; Link knocked softly on the window and it opened swiftly to reveal Kish's familiar bearded face.

"Welcome to—" He stopped. He squinted. Then his eyes went wide. "You—you're… you're…"

Link winced, his heart beating harder. Khana squeezed his hand. He swallowed tightly. "I… I know. I'm… sorry." _I can't change what I am._ "Please, my horse—she's travelled far. She deserves a long rest, and… I can't give that to her right now. W-would you take her in until I return?"

"I—of c-course," Kish stammered. His face was pale, drained of color, as if he'd seen a ghost. He looked baffled. And confused. "R-right this way."

He took the lantern down from the window and disappeared for a moment, coming back into view as he emerged from the front door. Link guided Mist after him towards a long, narrow building attached to a large paddock drenched in piles of fluffy snow. Kish held the gate open for them before jogging ahead to heave the tall stable doors aside.

"Breen," he called out, his voice wavering a little, "is that big stall open!"

A voice echoed down the wide wooden corridor towards them. "Yeah; why? Did one of those fancy sell-swords come in with a big—" She fell abruptly silent as she drew nearer, her wide eyes zeroed in on Link. He shifted uncomfortably.

"How much to board her?" Khana asked, quickly intervening. Link loved her.

"Free," Kish blurted, still focused on Link. "No charge. It's the least we can do."

Link's heart sank. _They're that frightened of me?_ "I insist," he murmured brokenly, fishing a purple gem from his pocket and holding it out. He knew he was paying too much, but Farore… he didn't care. They were afraid of him. These two people who had taken him in, helped him recover, asked nothing of him in return… he couldn't handle it anymore. Miserable, he placed the rupee in Kish's hand and pushed past Mist, out into the cold night. Mist whickered uneasily, turning her head to look back at him. He didn't see. He barely cared.

 _I cause nothing but pain to everyone I see._

* * *

"He won't hurt you," Khana tried to explain. "You don't understand—the Yiga Clan. They did that to him; they tortured him, and… it was horrible. You must understand—he's not a monster; if he had his way he would never hurt anyone, ever—"

"It's not that," the man, Kish, interrupted. "He's… that's… the boy I rescued a few months back. But he's also… _the Hero's Shade…"_

"The… _what?"_ Khana stared, dumbfounded.

Breen smacked her husband lightly on the arm. "That blasted Rumor Mill… I thought you didn't read the supernatural articles!"

"I don't!" Kish protested, flustered. "I… was bored. I didn't think anything of it, but this… whoever that was, he perfectly matched the description of the Hero's Shade. Some magical creature that's been going around saving people. Which means…" He looked at Khana in awe. "You're that enchantress."

 _What in Din's name…?!_ "Will you take care of Mist?" Khana asked uncertainly, eager to change the subject.

"Of course!" Breen assured her. "We'd be honored—of course!"

Kish chuckled lightly, although his face still betrayed awe. "Not every day you get the chance to help a _legend…"_

Khana shifted awkwardly, patting Mist's shoulder. "We'll see you soon," she promised the little mare, looking into her deep brown eyes. "Er… thank you both."

"Wait," Kish said suddenly, hurrying out of the stable. Khana stared after him, baffled; Breen shook her head.

"You'll… have to forgive him," she said, her words slightly stilted as if she didn't feel entirely confident. "He's… a bit scatterbrained… sometimes."

Khana shrugged awkwardly, leading Mist to the stall Breen indicated and removing the bridle and saddle. Kish returned, holding a thin leather book in his hands. "The Rumor Mill. You're welcome to have this volume; the article on the Hero's Shade is on page nine. Maybe… maybe it'll help convince him that he's not a monster."

Khana took the book slowly, meeting Kish's eyes. "Thank you," she murmured. If Kish and Breen's gobsmacked awe was any indicator… it had been quite the article. _Maybe it_ will _help._

"Best of luck to you both," Breen told her gravely. "Won't you stay the night?"

It wasn't her place to explain Link's nocturnal nature. "Thank you, but… I'm afraid we really don't have much time. We won't forget your kindness."

Kish blushed, flattered; they watched in silent awe as Khana hurried back into the stormy night.

 _Link, where are you?_

She couldn't see him, not by the trees, or beneath a ledge, or along the riverbank—

Wait. There he was, a dark figure standing—no, wading, in the shallows of the river. " _Link!"_ she gasped, sprinting down the incline until she reached the edge of the water. Link stood a little over waist deep, shuddering violently. He didn't turn as she approached. "Link, get back here!"

Still he didn't move, except to take another step forward into the water. It almost reached his collarbone. Fear closed around Khana's heart and she stepped into the Gash, dashing over the water towards him and reappearing just long enough to snatch his hand and pull him in with her. He slumped against her, shivering violently; quickly she brought them back to the shore, back to the little ledge she'd spotted, before returning them both to reality. Link groaned, keeling over and clutching his stomach, nauseous as always at the exit from the Gash.

Khana didn't waste another second, snatching firewood and several flint stones from the Gash she set about building a fire; when that was done she turned to Link, who was conscious but seemingly barely so. His red eyes reflected the flames, half-closed with misery and fatigue. "Why did you do that?" she demanded, clearing a wide patch of snow away and setting up their tent. "Link, _why?"_

He shrugged, looking away. Khana grit her teeth, sliding poles into place before tossing their bedrolls inside. "You need to get changed, or you'll _die."_

"Would that be so bad?" he mumbled, his voice a hoarse whisper that she could barely hear. Fear burned her heart.

"It would be unbearable," she assured him, unable to stop her voice from cracking slightly. "Now, are you going to undress yourself or do I have to do it for you?"

His cheeks flushed a dark violet, and clumsily he stumbled into the tent. She sat by the fire, waiting for him to return, listening through the canvas to his shaking breaths, to the rustle of cloth. After a while he fell silent. "Khana… I can't… I can't…"

"Can't what?" she asked softly.

"M-my tunic…"

Bracing herself for the worst, Khana reluctantly crawled into the little tent. Link sat on the ground, clad in dry trousers, but his feet were bare, and he still wore his black tunic, soaked through. Khana swallowed tightly and took his hands, resisting the urge to flinch away. They were as cold as ice; she had no doubt that his arms, too, were just as could. Which meant they were stiff. Which was why he couldn't move them enough to pull his tunic off.

 _It's not like I haven't seen him shirtless before,_ Khana thought with a blush. Lest he think he was being a hindrance to her, she smiled gently at him, trying to communicate through her eyes the depth of her love for him, of her fear _for_ him. Nonetheless she began by pulling thick, dry stockings from his bedroll and pulling them up over his icy feet to his knees. Only then did she move to his tunic, focusing on his eyes as she reached down and pulled the garment up over his head and down his arms. Quickly she moved to grab a dry tunic, but he took her arm, stopping her.

"Am I… am I… frightening?" he asked softly, tremoring from the cold and glancing down at his chest.

Khana followed his gaze. Dark scars twisted across his torso, curling over his arms and back. There were so many of them… lines that marked the blood he had spilled in his fight against Ganon. He thought they were hideous; he thought they only further marked him as something not human. In truth, many would say that scars were a detriment to appearance, all ropy and rugged.

Khana scooted closer to him, curling her arms around his neck. "Not at all," she murmured, staring hard into his eyes. "In fact… I think you're wonderful." With one hand, warm against his icy skin, she traced the line of a scar down his chest. "I know you didn't want this life. Violence isn't in your nature. But," she traced another scar, this one short and wide, barely visible, "that just makes everything you've done that much more incredible. You took up the ways of the warrior; you carry the Master Sword even now. And all for what?" Her hand travelled back up to rest on his shoulder. "To free this land, and give countless other lives a shot at fulfilling their dreams, even if it meant that you could not fulfill yours. Link… I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"Khana, I'm… not… worth…"

"Yes, you _are,"_ she insisted, pressing closer. His body was cold. On the outside, and on the inside. Khana knew that she would do whatever it took to warm him up. Determined, she pulled herself right up against his chest and leaned upwards, meeting his lips with hers and kissing him passionately. "Link… I love you," she murmured between kisses. "When will you understand?"

She huddled against him, bringing him warmth through her body; slowly she felt his arms slide up her sides, holding him to her. A good step forward. A sign that, perhaps, his confidence was returning. Khana smiled, relieved, lowering her head to press her cheek over his heart. _Thank Nayru._

* * *

The usual rush of dizziness swept over Link's body as Khana brought them back to reality. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, arms outstretched for balance until he didn't feel as if he were on the verge of throwing up.

"You good?" Khana asked when he opened his eyes. Link nodded, his heart squeezing. _I'm slowing us down. Din, I am so weak…_

Since awakening after escaping the Yiga Clan so long ago, journeys through the Gash had left him feeling slightly nauseous for a few moments afterward. He blamed those blasted cuffs Khoga had placed upon him. Some sort of residual effect of the magic or something.

He sighed heavily, running a weary hand over his face. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault. Never was," she assured him, reaching out and taking his hand. The walls of Gerudo City loomed ahead, black against the dazzling blue backdrop of the night sky. "I'm… a little worried about Mist, though. Will she get lonely?"

Guilt burned in his heart. "I… hope not," he murmured, eyes downcast. "But she's been through so much over the past months. She's too stubborn for her own good—we had to do _something._ She might think she doesn't, but she needs to rest." He sighed heavily. "Besides… she seemed so happy to get out of the desert last time." His heart ached at the thought of all she'd suffered here because of him. "I didn't want her to have to relive those bad memories. And I trust Kish and Breen to take care of her… no matter what they think of me."

"About that…"

He shook his head. "They're good people. They took care of me. I trust them with Mist. It's understandable that I… well. You know."

"Link, that's not…" She sighed, sounding frustrated. "Have you ever thought that maybe you're not quite as frightening as you think you are?"

He flinched. The image of a young Zora's face filled his mind. Fear shining in her wide eyes as he raised his hand in greeting. Her scream of terror as she sprinted away across the bridge as fast as he could.

And the first man they'd come across after leaving the desert. He hadn't been in danger; he was just passing by. He took one glance at Link and whirled his horse around the other way, riding hard, sword drawn.

Link shuddered. _No. Not fair. Not fair for me to force people to see me. Let alone people who were so good to me._ "I can't… let myself hope for that. It's just not true." He swallowed thickly.

Khana stared at him. "Really? The people in this kingdom are _that_ shallow?"

Link's cheeks grew warm. She didn't understand. It wasn't a matter of skin color or ethnicity. He was _unnatural._ Eyes that reflected light at night. That glowed _red._ Skin like a shadow, colorless, cool to the touch, like a reptile's. Elongated incisors like the fangs of some carnivorous beast. And, of course, his ability to communicate with monsters.

Facing him would be no different than facing a moblin or bokoblin. He was just the same. It was a miracle that Kish and Breen hadn't driven him away.

"Khana, I just don't know anyone," he tried to explain, running a hand through his white hair. "You, Impa, a few of the Gerudo, maybe Breen and Kish… you're the only ones who actually… actually _know_ me. Sidon only met me briefly before… everything happened. The thing is, I can't just… start waltzing into villages and stables and outposts and expect anyone there to know I won't actually hurt him. And I… the last thing I want is to cause fear."

He couldn't keep the dreary note of sorrow from his voice. He despised who he was, this eerie predator of the night. The sight of his own reflection sent chills down his spine. The memory of the fear on the Zora child's face and Muzu's face and the face of the traveller they'd encountered on the road filled his soul with aching guilt.

 _It would be better for everyone if I disappeared after Ganon is defeated. If he doesn't kill me first. Better for everyone…_

The small object wrapped in cloth seemed to grow heavy in his pocket. _How can she love me? Why, in Nayru's name, would she love_ me?

Raw agony burned in his heart and he clenched his teeth, willing the tears away.

 _Why would she love me?_ He had shown her nothing but weakness. Wounded, time and time again, tortured, helpless. Not good enough. _Never good enough. Especially not for her._

Dimly he realized that she had gone, that she had entered the city as they'd planned, to return the Thunderhelm to Riju and ask for her assistance in freeing Vah Naboris. He'd entirely missed her response.

Link shivered. He hadn't even noticed her leaving his side, consumed as he was by guilt and self-directed hatred. Broken, exhausted, he slumped against the wall.

 _What if I end it all?_ he wondered. There was a knife in his belt. If he stabbed himself, in the heart, in the throat, it would be over fast. No more suffering would he bring to others.

 _And what of Ganon?_

The Master Sword hung from his shoulder. Retrieving it had been the first thing he and Khana had done before facing Vah Ruta; it was then that Link had noticed just how much Mist hated the Gash.

He'd been able to hear the sword before. Back when he travelled with the Princess. But now… now it was silent.

 _Not worthy,_ a voice whispered in his mind. _Monster. Evil! Not worthy!_

He thought of the object hiding in his pocket. His spirit wilted. _Not worthy._

And suddenly the agony pierced a hundred times harder and he couldn't hold back a choked sob. Embarrassed, ashamed, broken, he cradled his head in his hands. The Master Sword would just have to choose someone else.

 _I'm not worthy of that blade. I'm not worthy of Khana's love,_ he thought with a burning heart. _I'm not worthy of her!_

He pressed himself to the city wall, knees drawn to his chest, head buried in his arms. _Not worthy… not worthy… not worthy…_

Silent tears burned down his cheeks. His heart jumped erratically. He shivered from the cold, from the ice with its roots deep within him, spreading from the inside out.

"Link?"

He straightened, mask firmly in place. _Not worthy of her kindness. So I can't confide in her. She deserves better._ "Just catching a little rest," he mumbled, getting to his feet and brushing sand from his trousers. He averted his gaze, feeling filled with shame and agony.

Khana left Riju's side and marched up to him, tilting her head to study his face. "Tears…?" she whispered, tracing the glistening streaks down his cheek. "Link, what—"

Quickly he turned away, facing Riju. "Are you ready?"

She looked slightly confused. "I… yeah, Urbosa's power is accessible to me through the Thunderhelm. If we stay close together, I believe Naboris will be unable to harm us…"

Link nodded curtly, turning and striding out into the darkened desert, not allowing Khana a second longer to observe the pain in his eyes. Pain that he knew he could not hide, no matter how hard he tried.

 _I have to protect her,_ he thought. _She deserves happiness. And she could never get that if I let her find out what's wrong with me._

His thoughts turned to the object in his pocket. He debated throwing it away, burying it deep in the sand, but he knew he couldn't.

His foolish heart refused to give up that feeble beam of hope.


	24. Chapter 24

**24\. Two Parts of a Whole**

Khana paced restlessly beneath the sun. It was already uncomfortably warm, and technically they hadn't even begun to ascend Death Mountain's treacherous slopes yet. No, that was a task that would begin in the evening.

Vah Naboris had been freed without a problem. She and Link together were more than enough to conquer the traps Ganon's malice had created within. And when the two of them fought together against the Thunderblight… they'd been unstoppable. Two halves of a whole. Ganon wouldn't stand a chance.

Now only two Divine Beasts remained. It would be easier to warp through the Gash to Goron City, but Khana was hesitant to do so. Such an abrupt change in the temperature around them would not be healthy, even with fireproof elixirs to drink. It would be better, she hoped, if they ascended gradually.

So now they slept—during the day, of course—resting, building their strength.

Or… Link slept, and Khana worried.

His spirit was breaking, or perhaps it already had, and her attempts to help hadn't done anything. One could only try to tell him how amazing he was so many times before it began to sound repetitive and insincere, even though she meant every word each time.

Memory loss. Torture. Disfiguration, in a sense. Radical changes wrought upon his body and mind. As strong as he was, as brave and good and kind… it was nonetheless inevitable that he'd fallen into this depression.

Khana longed to help him, longed to see his smile, longed to hear his laugh and feel his embrace confident around her.

But _how_ to bring him happiness… that was the question. She wasn't entirely sure if the little ring she'd hidden in the Gash would be enough.

A low groan issued from the shallow cave they'd found that morning. He was dreaming again… and from the sound of it, the dreams weren't pleasant.

Khana hurried to his side, reaching down and gently grasping his hand. His face, tight with pain, gleamed with perspiration; his muscles were taut and rigid.

"Hey," she murmured softly, holding his head in her hands. "Link… wake up. You're alright. You're safe."

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, bright with ear before he met her gaze. Then the light dimmed, and guilt burned over his face. "Did I… wake you?" he asked hoarsely, looking away.

"I was already awake," she promised him. "I'm… a little worried about Death Mountain. Y'know, marching up the side of an active volcano and all that."

She didn't miss the relief in his eyes. _He doesn't want to be the cause of my worry…? Oh, Link._

"We need to talk," she told him as kindly as she could. "You can't keep going on like this and expect me to do nothing."

His eyes hardened. The emotion left his face. _A defense mechanism._ "You shouldn't have to worry about it. I'm—"

" _You're_ not _fine,"_ Khana interrupted, desperation in her heart. "Link, tell me what's going on! I want to _help!"_

He didn't meet her gaze. "I… I… don't deserve your help." The words were barely audible.

Confusion swelled cold in her soul. She wanted to protest, to tell him she loved him, as she had so many times before…

But something held her back. Instinct, perhaps. _That hasn't worked. This time… I just need to listen._ "What do you mean?" she asked softly, forcing her voice to remain calm.

Link inhaled deeply, lowering his gaze. "I… it's just that… you…" He floundered for a moment before his shoulders sagged and his eyes cleared. "Khana, I… I don't understand. Why do you love me? It feels like I can scarcely take a few steps before falling down wounded and helpless and… and _weak._ How many times since we've met have I been on the verge of death? And now _this_ has happened, and it's all because… because I'm not good enough. I'm… I'm not the _hero_ they wanted me to be."

He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. "But you… you're _amazing._ Kind, brave, patient, tough… You can take care of yourself. Y-you shouldn't have to take care of me, too. And I… I should be better. Stronger. I shouldn't _need_ anyone to rescue me, tend my wounds… I'm supposed to be some sort of invincible, impenetrable, mighty… hero. And instead I'm just… me." His voice hitched. "I'm… just not good enough."

Khana waited. He sucked in another deep breath and slowly shook his head. "Look at me," he whispered brokenly. "They expect me to save them. They put their faith in me. Instead… I failed. I couldn't even save myself, or Mist or Barta or you. I failed. And now, when they see me… instead of seeing hope, seeing someone worthy of their expectations, they see… they see… _this."_ He gestured helplessly at himself. "Me. Unnatural, inhuman, f-frightening. For Din's sake—I'm not what they want. I… I _can't_ be."

Khana waited a moment longer. He didn't say anything. _Alright. Now I can act. Gently._ "I don't think…" No, that wasn't the way to begin. "There's something you need to see. Kish gave it to me." There. She reached into the Gash and pulled out the Rumor Mill, flipped past a few pages, and pressed it into his ands. Anxiously she watched as he read; his face morphed smoothly from miserable and broken to confused to baffled and finally to shocked. He looked up at her, eyes wide.

"Kish…?" he whispered, his gaze open and vulnerable.

Khana nodded gravely. "He hoped it would help you. They… he and Breen, they _weren't_ frightened. You've become a legend—they were in _awe."_

Link swallowed tightly, staring down with a scrunched expression at the little book in his hands. "Wh… why?"

"I can think of a lot of answers to that question," Khana smiled softly. "Why are you a legend? Why did the Master Sword choose you? The answer is the same." She moistened her lips, gathering her thoughts, and reached out to take his hand. "You might not agree, but… the truth is, you _are_ a hero. All those times you've gotten hurt… it happened because you were trying to help someone else. You placed their lives above yours; you were willing to put yourself into danger to keep them safe. Look back, Link… you know it's true."

He stared hard at a spot on the ground. Khana could almost see the gears in his mind turning and turning as he processed through her words.

She let him have another few moments before speaking again. "As for taking care of you… I hope you'll believe me when I say that of all the people you've helped, the people you've rescued from death and darkness… I will always be grateful that of all of them, I get to help _you_ for a change. Link, I _want_ to help you. I don't want you to do this alone—it's just not fair to think that you have to single-handedly have to save the entire world. I don't find anything demeaning or frustrating about tending your injuries… both those on the outside _and_ on the inside."

Tears burned in her eyes. Desperation, love, fear… "You've opened my eyes; you've shown me what kindness really means. You've shown me what _love_ really means. Your compassion is not a weakness, but a strength—and you are far stronger than you know." She inhaled deeply. She could feel her emotions pouring out through her voice, though she'd so desperately tried to stay calm. _Is that a good thing?_ "I love you, Link. And it's not up to you to decide whether or not I _should_ love you. I'm perfectly capable of making that decision on my own. I give my heart on _my_ terms, not yours or anyone else's. And… I've given it to you."

They sat there, across from each other, huddled in the shadow of the shallow cave as birds sang and the sun glistened on a slowly melting spring world.

Link uttered a soft sound—a word? A groan?—and closed his eyes tightly. His fingers delved into a pocket in his tunic, and he withdrew a small object wrapped in sturdy cloth. "I…" his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, looking down. "I wanted to do this… a long time ago." He swallowed tightly. "But I was afraid… of myself."

Slowly he uncoiled the cloth to reveal a ring, silver and graceful, impeccably delicate and detailed, with a little violet gem in the center. "It's Zora forged. A silver alloy mixed with luminous stone—unbreakable." He blinked rapidly. "It's… strong. Like you. IT was meant to s-symbolize my gratitude, because… when I'm not strong enough, you're always there for me." He wasn't looking at her, instead staring fixedly at the ring in his hands. Khana waited with increasing impatience for him to get to the point—if this was what she thought it was, she didn't want to wait any longer!

Yet at the same time… it was incredibly sweet, the thought that he had put into this. She didn't want him to hurry, if only to provide her with enough time to sear every detail of his words, of this scene, into her memory.

He inhaled slowly before continuing. "It's… well, it'll glow a little… at night. Sorry. I know it's not exactly stealthy, but… well, you're my light. In… in times like this, and always." He winced. "Sorry. That was corny, but… it's true. You… you fill the gaps in my mind. You give me hope. You make me feel like more than I am." He looked up at her at last, his gaze soft and warm and open. "And… the gem… well, it's the shade of your eyes. And I… I can see so much about you through your eyes… a window to your soul…"

Her heart pounded. She didn't trust herself to speak. _Nayru's love…_ This was real, wasn't it? The sun was shining—usually she was asleep now. Was this a dream? _Please, Hylia, no…_

Link cleared his throat again and held the ring out to her. "Khana, I… I believe you. I… I don't expect all of this to just go away all at once, but… as long as you're with me, I… I think I can overcome it. And I—love you too. W-will you… marry me?"

Her pulse skyrocketed. "Yes," she gasped, breathless with joy. " _Yes,_ Link!"

His smile could have outshone the sun. Tenderly he slid the ring onto her finger and his hand lingered there, closed softly around her own; Khana beamed at him, her soul feeling light and free. And suddenly words seemed impossible again. What words existed, anyway, to convey this feeling in her heart? The happiness, the overwhelming joy and the buoyant hope of a lifetime beneath the soft light of the moon, a lifetime ahead of them, spent together.

Her eyes were burning with tears that would not be contained. Happily she tumbled into Link's embrace, eagerly meeting his lips with hers.

* * *

Impa sat wearily upon her porch, watching the sky burn with sunset. It had been a long day, goodness… filled, nearly, with more questions than answers.

"I'm too old for this," she grumbled. "Nocturnal, my foot."

She was being bitter, and she knew it. Poor Link couldn't help his newfound sensitivity to sunlight. But it _was_ a bit much, coming to her doorstep just after dusk and asking to be _married,_ of all things. _Well… the girl_ did _have Sheikah heritage. And as I am the Elder of the Sheikah tribe… that means that I_ did _have authority to marry them._

She yawned widely. _If only his arrival hadn't spurred so many_ questions…

It was inevitable, she supposed. Link was not an ordinary man. So of course the things that happened to him would not be ordinary.

It was horrible—she wasn't denying that. His weakness during the blood moon or when confronted by creatures of Malice… his vulnerability to sunlight… and, of course, the physical agony that he'd suffered during that wicked transformation. She'd demanded that he explain, of course, when she saw him marching up with crimson eyes and skin like a shadow. The rumors of the Hero's Shade had reached her ears some time ago now, but she hadn't believed them until she saw for herself.

She just couldn't figure out one thing—why Khoga had failed.

She was well-versed in the legends, the history, of the kingdom. She'd heard of the dark ritual used in eons past by servants of Demise to create a shadow of the hero—an _evil_ shadow. From what Link and Khana had said, the ritual Khoga had performed and the ritual used in ages gone by were one and the same. But two things didn't add up.

The first was the fact that the ritual was meant to create a dark _copy_ of the hero, not to turn the hero himself _dark._

The second was that the shadowy copy was meant to be _evil,_ and have no thoughts of its own. And of course, that had not happened to Link.

It didn't make any sense whatsoever. The ritual had _always_ been successful before. So what was different? What had failed?

 _Perhaps it was because the ritual was performed directly_ on _the hero,_ she mused, sitting on her porch, gazing at the crimson sunset, puzzling over the intricacies of shadow magic. _Perhaps… but that still doesn't explain why there was no copy created, evil or otherwise…_

The soft creak of footsteps on the old wooden boards of her home reached her wrinkled ears, and she sighed heavily. "I know, Paya," she grumbled, getting to her feet with a groan and turning. "I'm—"

She stopped. Link stood there, dressed in a casual shirt and worn trousers, his hair ruffled and messy from sleep. He shifted slightly. "I… was wondering about something," he began.

Impa nodded. "Yes… there is something I would like to speak with you about as well… in time." _As soon as you're ready to recall every last detail of that night._

He bit his lip. "Well… when I was imprisoned… there was shadow magic around my cell. I… put an iron shackle between two bars, to see if perhaps it could… _block_ the magic. And… it did, but it also… sort of _drew_ the magic into itself, like a magnet."

Impa nodded slowly. "Iron… is an interesting material. It confuses shadow magic… makes it forget its orders, and holds it in a tangible form. Of course, it doesn't have that effect on iron when it's being held or worn by someone."

Link scratched his head. "I bent down and touched it, and told it to heal my wounds. It did. I mean, it fought me, and it didn't last—Khoga undid it when he caught me—but I was just wondering… would I be able to use shadow magic more often? Like Khana does?"

Impa's mind reeled. _He…_ used _shadow magic? Bent it to his will?_ "And it fought you?" she asked anxiously.

Link nodded. "I lost consciousness for a while. But it really did heal me…"

"Which should be impossible." Impa regarded him carefully. "You don't have a single drop of Sheikah blood, boy. Unlike me, of course; unlike Khana, unlike Khoga… unlike most of the Yiga Clan, for that matter.

"Now… Hylians can use shadow magic after participating in a certain ceremony. No, _not_ the one that was performed upon you," she added before he could ask. "And more often than not, this ceremony drove the Hylian mad, which was why it was outlawed by the Sheikah tribe."

Link frowned. "Then… why… how could I heal myself?"

"I would guess that your spirit, your mind, is simply that strong," Impa mused. "The Master Sword has a knack for choosing those with unbreakable spirits. Stronger than steel." She smiled at him. "But, nonetheless, you were only able to _use_ shadow magic because of the iron, cleansing its purpose away and holding it in a tangible form that you could touch. Because of the strength of your spirit, you could bend it to your will. But I do not think you could ever use it the way a Sheikah might. Not without the ritual, which is forbidden, and which I would _never_ subject you to."

Link bit down on his lip, eyes narrowed as he thought. He didn't seem horribly disappointed. _Good._ "So… what was it that you wanted to discuss?"

Impa smiled. "No matter, my boy. You've answered everything I needed to know."

He looked appropriately perplexed. Impa's smile widened and she made a shooing motion with her hands, urging him to head back inside. _Can't have_ all _of my mysterious air fade away with age, now can I?_

She turned her gaze back to the glorious sunset. It made sense now… at last.

Shadow magic was something of a sentient entity. Little was known about the nature of this entity, but Impa's research back in the day had yielded one solid fact—shadow magic could identify its master.

Impa squinted into the light, her mind whirling as she hypothesized. _So Link forced it to obey his will, to heal him, to build him up. Then when Khoga told it to destroy his spirit, to change him, it was confused. It recognized that Link had controlled him in the past, and used it to heal, not destroy. The magic was confused. Conflicted. So I suppose it must have… compromised._

 _And thus the Hero's Shade was created._

"Grandmother?"

Ah. There was Paya.

"Grandmother it's getting late," she chided gently, drawing near and taking her hand. "L-let's get back inside. D-don't you want to bid L-link and… and Khana farewell?"

Impa felt a rush of pity towards her granddaughter. _Link finally returns… and the first thing he does is get married._ She was proud of how well Paya was taking the news; it was no secret to Impa that the young woman had strong feelings for the hero. _If only she'd had the courage to step forward. Ah well. Perhaps this will teach her not to wait so long in the future._ "Oh, very well," she huffed, feigning impatience as she shuffled towards the front doors. "They'd better not wait so long next time before coming back… an old woman enjoys the odd visitor every now and again…"

* * *

 **So this chapter was a bit about tying up loose ends. Two more chapters to go - well, one chapter and an epilogue of sorts. Next chapter, I'm promising some action that will, hopefully, be thrilling. Yes, Link gets injured again... but that's not the main focus, and none of the wounds are half as serious as they've been before.**

 **Please be sure to visit my profile page and vote, or PM me with which story you want me to write next! So far I only have two votes - not quite enough to make a decision! You'd all be really helping me out, but no pressure! ( : Until next time!**


	25. Chapter 25

**I'll keep this brief - this is probably the longest chapter in the story, and at first, I didn't think I would include anything like this at hte end of the story. But I'm happy with how it turned out, and I hope you are too! I just wanted to explain a little bit… I felt that the final boss battle was a little too easy, and I was disappointed that the Master Sword didn't play as much of a role. Don't get me wrong - I LOVE this game so much! But this is my idea about how the final boss battle should have gone…**

 **After this, there will be an epilogue... and then the story is over! Thank you all for sticking with me! ( :**

* * *

 **25\. Calamity Ganon**

A bright golden light flickered, blinding for a moment before fading, pulsing softly.

" _Link… I'm sorry… but my power isn't strong enough…"_

The Princess' voice echoed through his mind as he stared, repulsed, at the bulbous mass hanging from the ceiling of the inner sanctum… like the egg sack of a massive spider. Khana's grip on his hand tightened.

" _I can't hold him…"_

Laser beams shot from the sack, firing all across the room, marking an angry, molten red cross over the ground. Link flinched, eyeing the sack with trepidation. _Here it comes._

Lines of pure blue light swirled over the sack for a moment before vanishing. Steam hissed from the marks they'd made. The sack twisted for a moment, undulating with a sickening squelch; then it broke, spewing Malice in every direction. Something tumbled down from the ceiling, something large, many-legged; it crashed into the floor and broke through, destroying what remained of the dilapidated room. Link gasped in surprise, feeling nothing beneath his feet and gravity tugging him downwards before Khana yanked him into the Gash.

" _Sorry,"_ she swallowed tightly, her hand tightly clasping his as she guided them swiftly, safely, downwards. " _I know you didn't want to use this right now—"_

" _But otherwise I'd be a pulp on the ground,"_ Link finished with a grateful smile. " _Try to distract him for a moment while I recover, alright?"_

She nodded. They rocketed downward, tumbling down after the mass of evil descending below them. Through an ancient pit, a counterpart to the pit that led to the Moon Chamber, down and down and down until the pit widened into a massive circular hall glowing with Malice. Link winced.

Khana snapped her fingers, pulling out a thin scarf. The same that Link had used when confronting the Divine Beasts—filled with pools of Malice as they were, he wouldn't have been able to breathe otherwise.

" _Thanks,"_ he murmured, wrapping it over his mouth and nose. Khana attempted a smile, but it was strained; he could see fear in her eyes. His heart burned. " _We can do this,"_ he promised, squeezing her hand. " _We've vanquished the Blights and freed the Divine Beasts. We'll vanquish Ganon, too."_

She didn't respond. They'd arrived at the bottom of the pit; with a twist she released the two of them back into reality. Link doubled over, involuntarily gripped with nausea; he gasped through the scarf, eyes closed, as he heard Ganon shuffling around, growling. _Oh, Din… he sounds big…_

At last he opened his eyes.

And half-wished he hadn't.

Ganon…

A massive beast, bulging with glistening muscles formed of pure Malice, towered over him, fixing him in a soulless golden stare. His face was vaguely humanoid, crooked and misshapen and toothy, engulfed by a wild mane of blood-red hair, like a lynel's mane. Most of its arachnid legs ended in weapons—swords, a claw, a fiery blade at least five times longer than Link was tall, even a limb that ended in a guardian's eye. Only one limb ended in a normal five-fingered hand—and that hand grasped a long spear gleaming with guardian tech.

They stood for a moment regarding each other. Ganon sneered, his features grotesque. " _Hero,"_ he growled, his voice sending daggers through Link's mind. " _We meet at last. I'm… disappointed."_

Link forced himself not to cry out, measuring his breaths and storing the pain away, deep down inside of his soul. _No time for that now._ "If you're anything like your Blights—"

He was cut off abruptly by a sudden blue light descending from the pit. _Moonlight? Down here?_

"Link!" Khana snatched his hand and pulled him away from the center of the room, just as a hailstorm of bright blue laser beams tumbled down into the room, right into Ganon's upturned face. "It's the Divine Beasts—they're attacking!"

He could barely hear her over the deafening explosions and Ganon's unearthly screeches of pain. As shrapnel flew all around them from laser beams not quite on their mark he slid his shield from his back and pulled Khana down to crouch beside him on the ground; they huddled together as the torrential attack carried on and on and on until at last… silence fell.

"Remember our plan," Khana whispered, giving his hand a final squeeze before vanishing again. Link got to his feet. _I won't forget._

Ganon lay on the ground, twitching feebly, Malice spewing from wounds across his torso. But as Link watched, sliding the Master Sword from its sheath, the monster pushed himself to his feet and shook slightly, like a wet dog trying to dry off.

" _Cheap trick,"_ he snarled. " _But you'll find I'm far stronger than a mere barrage of pretty lights."_ And with a grating roar, he lunged forwards, impossibly fast.

Link ducked beneath the spear and thrust his blade upwards, carving a line in Ganon's—torso? Thorax?—before lunging to his feet and backpedalling as Malice dripped down. Khana appeared in midair and landed, blade pointed down, on Ganon's back before vanishing again. Link darted forwards and hacked at Ganon's shoulder before the beast reared up with a frustrated roar and brought his fiery blade sweeping downwards.

Link dodged the weapon but didn't expect the massive fireballs it left in its wake, engulfing the ground in flames. He ran, not fast enough—pain seared up his leg and he grimaced, teeth clenched, smacking his flaming trousers with the flat of his blade until Khana appeared at his side, snatching a flask of water they hadn't used in their travels from the Gash and pouring it on his calf.

"Th—" he bagan, then yanked her down as Ganon's spear shot towards them, missing by a hair. Their eyes met for a moment— _Din, he's so much stronger than we thought!_ —before Khana disappeared again.

Ganon swung his flameblade once more but this time Link dashed forwards instead of backwards, ducking beneath the weapon and thrusting his blade upwards, opening a deep wound in the monster's shoulder before sprinting backwards again as Khana reappeared, gravity once more tugging her downward to stab deep into Ganon's back. Ganon roared, twisting around, but Khana was already safe in the Gash.

Link sprinted forwards again while Ganon was distracted, ignoring the pain in his burned calf, but Ganon backpedalled just in time, gaining only a shallow gash along the side of his face. Ganon backed away once more as Link charged; it raised its guardian canon and aimed briefly before firing. Link leapt to the side, avoiding the first blast; the second he caught on his shield, and the third he parried back at the monster.

Ganon shuddered, reeling from the blow, dazed; Link and Khana closed in, blades ramming for Ganon's face-down head, but the thick mane of crimson hair got in the way, protection of sorts; as Ganon began to move, to get back to his feet, Link thrust downwards with all of his strength and felt the Master Sword pierce flesh.

Ganon flinched away, screeching, and flung out one of his limbs, catching Khana in the side and sending her hurtling through the air, colliding violently with the wall and sliding down, groaning.

"No!" Link roared, torn for a moment between going to his wife's aid or attacking Ganon. Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of blue—he dashed a way, out of range, a moment too late, and pain erupted in his lower back and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees.

Khana staggered to her feet, clutching her chest but otherwise seemingly unharmed. Link hastened to stand, hissing at the burn of pain in his back; teeth clenched he turned back to Ganon in time to see the canon aimed right at him. Link yanked his shield back over his chest and the blast glanced off of the bottom edge before colliding solidly with his stomach, sending him staggering backwards before landing hard on the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs.

But Ganon did not take advantage of the opportunity, instead raising two limbs high above his head as his body flared orange; for the briefest instant the outline of a crimson shield appeared around him. He jabbed his spear forwards and Link rolled to the side before surging to his feet, wheezing heavily, but Khana's scream filled his ears and his blood ran cold. _He wasn't aiming at me!_

This time he didn't deliberate, sprinting as fast as he could to Khana's side and gripping her hands as she stumbled back against the wall. Blood seeped through her tunic from a gash in her side, a few inches beneath the leather armor she wore over her chest. "Is it deep? Are you alright?" Link asked frantically, fear stronger than any he'd ever known before searing his heart. Quickly he tore a strip from his scarf and bound it tightly over her side.

" _Link!"_ Khana hissed, violet eyes burning. She shoved him forcefully to the side in time to save him from getting skewered on the end of Ganon's spear. "I'll be fine—we can't deal with this now!"

He nodded, his throat dry, heart hammering fiercely beneath his ribs. _She's right. Gotta focus._ "Be careful," he pleaded, before turning back to face an amused Ganon.

Khana scoffed. "You're one to talk!"

 _Fair point._ But he didn't linger on that thought a moment longer as Ganon attacked again, swinging his flameblade and sending out massive rolling fireballs. Feeling his calf ache at the sight Link forced himself to run, run, as fast as he could, pushing himself to the limits to outrun the flames hot on his heels. _Eventually they'll get soaked up by the Malice on the walls, like last—_

A limb ending in a short sword flashed down towards him and he choked in surprise, diving down into a roll and coming up behind the blade, right under Ganon's belly. _Yes!_ Quickly he thrust the Master Sword up but it rebounded against the orange of Ganon's flesh, suddenly as hard as rock. Link staggered backwards, off balance, and Ganon reacted quickly, releasing his spear and grabbing Link in one massive fist.

" _Mighty hero,"_ Ganon mocked, tightening his grip. " _You will die now, here, helpless before me."_

Link struggled, teeth clenched, his arms tightly pinned to his sides. He could feel his ribs forced inwards; his vision whirled as his air was cut off, and he groaned breathlessly, staring deep into Ganon's soulless eyes. _No… no…_

A sudden sickening snap, and pain shot through his chest, but he lacked the air to cry out. Instead his eyes watered; hsi features twisted in a grimace of agony even as Ganon tightened his grip further.

A streak of blue cut across his wavering vision and Ganon roared in pain, dropping him to the ground as his own spear lodged itself in his chest. Growling, he yanked it back out and held it tightly in his hand, glaring furiously down at a ferocious Khana an instant before she vanished.

And reappeared before he could get his shield back up, slamming her blade deep down into his back once again.

Link staggered to his feet, clutching his chest in pain, quickly assessing the damage. _Cracked rib, at the very least… could've punctured… no way to tell for sure…._

He did not, as he had in times past, feel blood gathering in his lungs. A blessing. _Alright… I'm not going to die._

With renewed wariness he watched as Ganon shook himself, raising two limbs above his head and regenerating his shield before turning to Link with fresh hatred.

" _Two against one,"_ he grumbled. " _Not fair!"_

"Have you seen yourself?" Link muttered, adjusting his grip on his shield.

Ganon chuckled darkly and raised his canon once more, pausing a moment to aim before launching a series of short, rapid blasts. Link ducked beneath his shield for the first few and then parried the last ones back at the monster, sending them piercing through the fiery orange shield. Ganon hissed, staggering, struggling to recover as Khana appeared and pierced downwards and Link darted forwards, aiming right for Ganon's head, between the eyes. _No mistakes this time!_

But Ganon was ready. With a cackle he flung his weaponized limbs outwards, flameblade and long, guardian spear; Khana stumbled backwards just in time to escape death with a gash across her shoulder blades, instantly cauterized by the heat of the weapon, and the spear pierced Link's upper arm deep, scraping bone, but he regained his balance as quick as he could and ignored the cold agony, charging forwards, undeterred. Yelling out a ferocious battle cry he leaped upwards, raised the Master Sword high, and drove it deep between Ganon's fiery eyes.

Silence fell for a split second. Then Link yanked out his weapon and staggered back, hissing and letting the sword fall to the ground as the pain in his right arm made its presence known.

Ganon screeched, writhing violently, limbs flailing as Malice gushed from the wounds across his body, pouring forth unnaturally fast and thick, glistening on the ground. Beams of magenta light pierced from his body, sending light arcing through the cave-like chamber, and he exploded into goop and a dark crimson fog.

That fog, the cloud of him that remained, slowly began to rise, spiralling up the shaft down which it had first fallen.

"Is it… is he gone?" Khana asked breathlessly, holding her side with a pained grimace.

Link swallowed tightly, eyes narrowed. "I don't—"

A scream shattered through his mind and he crashed to his knees from the shock of it, gripping his head. The Princess' scream. " _Ganon! Ganon! He's given up on reincarnation to assume his pure, enraged form—LINK!"_

"It's not over," Link panted, shaking his head and looking up at Khana. "We have to get outside…"

Khana looked at him anxiously. "The Gash, then?"

Link nodded, wincing at the flare of cold pain in his arm, taking her hand in his.

The shadow world closed in around them and they shot up out of the shaft, following the undulating cloud of Malice steadily gaining size and substance over Hyrule Field. Link closed his eyes, feeling dizzy as they descended, and when the familiar nausea took him he knew they'd returned to reality. Slowly he sank to his knees, head bowed, until the feeling passed. Wind whooshed across his frame, chilling the sweat drenching his body, and he opened his eyes.

Hyrule was bathed in an unnatural scarlet sunset. Flecks of Malice, drifting sparks in the breeze, fluttered over the tall grass. Clouds darted across the sky, much too fast, much to wispy and insubstantial.

Zelda's voice murmured in his ears, low and hoarse as if utterly exhausted. " _Ganon… was born out of a dark past. He is a pure embodiment of the ancient evil that is reborn time and time again… if set free upon our world the destruction will be unlike anything we've ever seen before!"_

Link swallowed tightly, holding Khana's hand in his. In the center of the field, the cloud of Malice that was Ganon was taking shape, growing tall, taller than the tallest spires of the castle… taller, it seemed, than the mountains themselves. Corded muscle of taut Malice burst into existence, forming legs, a tail, a massive head and equally massive tusks.

A boar, composed partly of pure violet light, and partly of oozing Malice and ethereal crimson flames.

A beam of pure white light shone down from the heavens, piercing through the crimson haze over the land. Link squinted, looking upwards, to see a beautiful golden bow in the shape of a half-moon coalescing from the pillar of shining white. Zelda's voice spoke again… " _I entrust you with the Bow of Light—a powerful weapon in the face of evil. Link… you may not yet be at a point where you have fully recovered your power or all of your memories… But courage need not be remembered, for it is never forgotten."_

 _Powerful words,_ Link thought, feeling a rush of emotion in his soul. Indeed, as he had learned, he didn't need to remember who he once had been in order to confront his fears. Quickly he reached up and snatched the bow from the air with his good arm, discarding his battered shield in the grass.

Khana moved her hand up to his shoulder. "Are you ready for this?" she asked softly; he could hear the fear in his voice.

Link forced a smile to his face, despite the fatigue, despite the fatigue. "As long as you are," he murmured, pulling his scarf down for a moment to plant a quick kiss on her forehead before starting forwards. Ganon seemed confused, disoriented, looking around over the land. So far he had not moved from where he'd formed.

A sudden familiar whinny sounded in his ears and he whirled in surprise, feeling a jerk in his chest as Mist galloped gracefully over the fields towards them, a broken halter rope trailing out behind her.

"Incredible horse," Khana marvelled, eyes wide, reaching a hand out to greet the little mare.

" _Link!"_ Zelda yelled in his mind, sounding impatient. " _What are you waiting for?!"_

Link turned away from his horse, looking down at the beautiful bow in his hand. There was a sinking feeling in his heart as his sword arm twinged with pain; he could feel the hot blood streaming down the limb. Teeth clenched, he attempted to pull the bowstring back, but pain seared his arm and he dropped it with a hiss of pain. _Well… that's fantastic._

But a plan was beginning to form in his mind, even as Ganon took a slow step towards them, eyes flaming. "Khana… I can't use the Bow of Light. Not with my arm like this."

She looked at him anxiously, eyes flicking to his blood-drenched arm before hesitantly she took the weapon. "Arrows?" she questioned, pulling the string back and testing the draw strength. Then she gasped as a thin beam of light appeared, an arrow already nocked. "...Alright."

Ganon roared, shaking the ground as he took another step forward. Link swallowed tightly. _Zelda, what exactly is your plan here?_

" _That energy covering Ganon's body is called Malice. None of your attacks will get through as he now is… I will hold the Malice back as much as I can, but my power is waning. I will only be able to weaken a few specific areas; fire at those, and perhaps it will weaken him enough to enable me to seal him away!"_

"Okay," Link muttered, turning back to Khana. "The Princess will show you where to shoot. I'll try to attack with the Master Sword on the ground; hopefully our combined efforts will be enough to defeat him."

Khana shuddered as Ganon stepped towards them. "Link, I… he's… how can _anything_ we do be enough against _this?"_

Link took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "I don't know. But whatever happens can't be worse than not trying at all." Reluctantly he released her hand and gripped Mist's withers, pushing himself up onto her shoulders with a grimace. Khana offered him a shaky smile before stepping into the Gash.

Ganon stepped closer. Link patted Mist's neck, feeling her shift beneath him. "Ready for this?" Her ears twitched back towards him; drawing the Master Sword, he nudged her sides, and she launched into a steady canter.

" _Link, what are you doing?"_ Zelda demanded in his mind. " _The Bow of Light is the only thing I know of that can pierce Malice—"_

"The Blade of Evil's Bane," he reminded her. "What's the point of me having it, of me being able to pull it from the ground, if it was useless against Ganon?"

" _I… hadn't thought about that."_

"And anyways," Link continued, holding tight to Mist's mane and halter rope with his free hand and gripping her sides with his knees as she charged over the grass, "I can't draw a bow right now. But I'm not about to let _that_ stop me from confronting Ganon. I won't leave you and Khana to fight this thing alone."

Zelda didn't respond right away; he heard her sigh. " _As you wish, then. May you be victorious!"_

Link nodded grimly, eyes narrowing as he charged. Mist was drawing closer to Ganon's legs; teeth clenched he swung the Master Sword, cutting deep into the monster's ankle and sending a spray of Malice spurting forth. Mist whickered anxiously, putting on an extra burst of speed to get away, but she did not hesitate to run right up next to another massive leg, allowing Link to attack again. _Brave horse._

He would be lying to himself if he thought he wasn't afraid. Here they were, a battered knight and a hundred-year old teenager and the one person in the world that he cared for above everyone else.

The three of them, against a mountainous creature formed of sheer evil. A creature eons old, as old as the world itself, bent on nothing but destruction.

 _The three of us, battling for the fate of the world._

But in the face of such a threat, fear… fear had no place. Not when it could stop him from doing what needed to be done.

 _I may be different; I may be beaten and exhausted and different._ Mist's heavy panting breaths sounded loud in his ears; streaks of light shot through the sky towards golden rings littering Ganon's body. Link slashed powerfully at the inside of Ganon's calf even as the monster took another step forward, northward. _But that doesn't mean I'm weak or powerless. Especially now._

The Master Sword shone brightly in his grasp and a surge of hope and a liberating sense of self-worth washed over his soul. _I was chosen by the Blade of Evil's Bane. It knew, the Goddesses knew, that I—that_ we— _could do this!_

 _I will not let them down._

Mist wheeled around, sharply turning back the way she'd come. Back beneath Ganon's body, racing beneath him as he took a massive step forward. Link stretched out his left arm and cut deep into Ganon's legs, twice, three times. Then she emerged, right beneath his head; Ganon's jaws parted, and a familiar beam of blue shot forth—a laser blast. Link's blood ran cold. "Run!" he roared, huddling low over Mist's back as she increased her speed, breathing hard as Ganon's blast trailed behind them, quite literally hot on their heels, sending flames whooshing instantly up from the ground. " _Run!"_

Mist was flying over the field. Link's heart raced in time to the pounding of her hooves into hard soil and grass. He didn't know if it would be better for them to turn right or left, or to just continue in a straight line; in the space of a split second he tugged Mist's halter rope sharply to the left and she veered away. Glancing over his shoulders he saw that Ganon had turned his head, was glaring down at them, sending a stream of white-hot fire out of his mouth after him.

But only his head was moving to face them—not the rest of his body.

" _Hiyah!"_ Link cried out, digging his heels into Mist's sides and coaxing a fresh burst of speed from her, steadily guiding her around, in a wide loop, back towards Ganon. Mist was flying over the field, but he could feel the heat behind them, could hear the roar of flames as they caught on the grass— _Merciful Din, this is the end—_

He narrowed his eyes, heart throbbing, feeling Mist tremor beneath him as she sprinted, far and fast, not faster than the flames, but they crossed behind several trees and then behind Ganon's hind legs. Ganon roared in frustration, stamping his foot and sending out a minor earthquake. Link shuddered. _Safe for now._ "Good girl," he muttered, patting Mist's sweaty neck.

He raised his left hand high, bringing it down as hard as he could as they charged up Ganon's sides again, digging deep into the monster's legs. Ganon flinched away, his movements still sluggish and inelegant as he groaned like thunder and stepped forward again, ever northward.

The clouds above were beginning to coalesce, blocking out the crimson of the sky and casting the world in shadow. Link carved yet another gash in Ganon's ankle. _All the better for me—light is not my ally anymore._ He turned Mist around and charged back towards Ganon's flaming tail, running close to Ganon's thigh. Link plunged the Master Sword in up to the hilt and let Mist's momentum pull it free, drawing an agonized scream from Ganon's cavernous maw. Out of the corner of his eye he could see flashes of light; Khana and Zelda's seemingly endless attack raged on.

But Ganon didn't even seem to notice, continuing doggedly northwards.

Link ground his teeth together, eyes narrowed at the dark beast; he nudged Mist forwards again and slashed madly at the monster's legs, once more eliciting cries of pain. But still it seemed futile; the Master Sword was limited to strike only as high as Link could reach, meaning that most of Ganon's body remained unharmed. _Especially if those light arrows aren't quite doing what we thought they would._

He urged Mist back out from beneath Ganon's stomach and studied the creature for a moment as Khana continued her attack. Those light arrows _were_ doing something, he could see that much at least… The crimson flames that had been licking over the surface of the Malice were nearly nonexistent; even as he watched he saw a beam of light pierce one of Zelda's golden rings, and several more flames sparked into nothingness.

" _Ganon's power is weakening!"_ Zelda exclaimed, relief glowing in her voice. " _We're so close!"_

Link's eyes narrowed. _Are we?_ Sure, the fire was gone, but Ganon was still walking, albeit slowly, ever northward, undeterred. He was slow; he seemed to be favoring one leg, thanks to the Master Sword… _But at this rate, it won't be long before he gets… wherever he's going._ He gazed to the north, and lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the distant outline of a stable across two rivers. His blood ran cold. _Breen and Kish! Goron City! The Lost Woods!_

Eventually Ganon would get there… and send them all up in flames. Link swallowed tightly. _Can't let that happen!_

He wished he could do more. He wished he could drive the Master Sword straight through Ganon's eyes; he wished he could impale wherever Ganon's heart was; he wished he could end it all.

 _But I can't. Not right now. All I can do is attack his legs._ A flicker of hope pierced his soul. _Eventually he won't be able to walk, and if he can't walk, he can't get to Breen and Kish, right?_

With renewed determination he nudged Mist's sides and sent her charging towards Ganon. He could feel her tiring, could feel the sweat on her coat mixing with the light rain beginning to fall, could feel a slight weariness in her step. But she did not slow; she galloped after Ganon with just as much fervor as she had before. _Amazing horse._

Ganon raised a massive hoof from the ground and Link narrowed his eyes, focusing, trying to see where it would come down. Mist darted forwards and Link raised the Master Sword in preparation; then Ganon roared and his foot crashed down with unexpected force, sending a tremor through the ground.

Link felt Mist falter; she stumbled, tripped, tumbled to the ground. Link let go and fell from her back before he could be trapped beneath her, crashing hard to the ground and rolling several feet before coming to a painful, bruised halt. Quickly he pushed himself to his feet, pressing a hand to his chest at the renewed pain in his cracked rib. Rain pattered down much harder now, quickly soaking into his tunic. Mist got to her feet quickly, looking none the worse for wear, and trotted quickly back to him.

He paused a moment to let his wait rest against her. His adrenaline was fading; the pain of his wounds was making itself known. _Can't deal with that now,_ he told himself, pressing his face into Mist's sturdy shoulder. _Can't feel the pain…_

He inhaled deeply, eyes tightly closed, focusing hard on putting his mask back up. _Not now. Can't feel it. I don't feel it._ He sucked in one last deep breath before stepping back, looking into Mist's concerned dark eyes. "I'm not going to ask you to risk yourself again," he told her, patting her neck before turning and limping towards Ganon (who continued onwards even through Khana's and Zelda's attacks). But he heard soft hoofbeats behind him; looking back he saw Mist plodding faithfully after him.

Link shook his head, smiling ruefully. Words failed him—what was there to be said, when Mist had followed him time and time again into danger and pain? He rubbed her nose and met her gaze, hoping that his eyes could convey what his tongue could not.

He pushed himself onto her back once again, and together they charged Ganon once more. Teeth gritted tightly in determination he held the Master Sword high and struck deep into the back of the monster's hind leg, right beneath the ankle; Mist sprinted forwards, and seconds later Link stabbed Ganon's foreleg as well, sinking his blade in all the way to the hilt before letting Mist's speed pull it back out. Ganon howled in agony, rising up on his hind legs— _Din curse it!_ —Link tugged Mist to the side, to the left, out from beneath the monster's body, sprinting over the field as Ganon's forelegs crashed down with enough force to topple trees all around. Mist faltered again but this time managed to regain her footing as Link turned her back around to face the beast.

Something emerged from Ganon's back—a sort of bulbous mass between his shoulder blades. Link's lip curled in disgust.

Zelda gasped in his mind. " _Link! Look up there! That's the very core of Ganon's being! We've weakened him enough to expose it!"_

"Great! What do we do?" he asked, craning his neck and trying to see.

" _The Bow of Light should be enough to destroy it…"_ Her voice trailed off, and she sounded uncertain. Streaks of light shot through the air, but Ganon did not react, slowly, mindlessly, meandering northwards. Fearfully Link glanced towards the stable; Ganon had reached the first of two rivers separating him from innocent lives. His mouth went dry.

More flashes of light, and then Khana appeared at Mist's side, gesturing hopelessly, bow in one hand. "It's not doing anything," she protested desperately. "The light… it's just absorbed. I can't… I can't do _anything!"_

Link swallowed tightly. _The Master Sword cut right through Ganon's flesh. Perhaps it can destroy this…_ core. He glanced down at the blade in his hands, glowing a strong cerulean blue, before turning his gaze to the mass on Ganon's back. _Zelda, would the Master Sword get through that?_

Silence. Khana studied him anxiously; Mist tossed her head, and Ganon took another step northwards.

" _I hadn't considered that,"_ Zelda said at last, sounding embarrassed. " _We did not have the Bow of Light last time, so I thought it would be the key to Ganon's demise._ _But clearly, though it has been instrumental in weakening his powers—"_

 _Zelda!_ Link cut her off, sliding down from Mist's shoulders. _Now is not the time for a scientific analysis of the situation! There will be more than enough time for that afterwards—if we make it that far!_

" _Right! Of course!"_ She paused. " _In that case I believe the Master Sword, as it is said to repel evil, will indeed be effective._ _Do what you must, Link!"_

Link nodded, inhaling deeply. "Khana… can you get me up there?"

"Using the Gash? Are you sure?" She gripped his uninjured arm, violet eyes practically glowing with uncertainty. Ganon took another step forward. "Link, that's… that's a lot of Malice."

He forced a cheesy grin across his face. "And I have a sword that _repels_ evil. It'll be fine. And we're running out of options." His heart grew warm, and he cupped her face in his free hand despite the twinge of pain. "We've almost won."

Her eyes darted down to the blade glowing in his hand. "This… is the way to end it all…" Her gaze hardened, burning with determination. She tightened her grip on his hand and snatched the two of them into the Gash, soaring upwards, leaving a baffled Mist behind. Higher and higher and higher, flying through dark clouds and streaks of lightning and drops of water frozen in the air, frozen in time, towards the monster that stood wading through the first of two rivers, one hoof raised in preparation to take another step northward. Ganon was so much bigger than he had seemed from the ground; as they floated higher Link saw the details of the grass and Mist's face and the trees down below quickly fading, and yet they had not reached Ganon's shoulders. He felt something stir in his stomach—fear. _If I'm wrong… if this isn't enough… then it's all over._

They drew level with Ganon's back at last, and he saw, up close, the bulging mass between the monster's shoulder blades. It was an eye, or rather, one larger eye with other smaller ones all around it. His stomach churned, disgusted. _But at least it looks vulnerable…_

Khana brought him to Ganon's spine, behind the disgusting eyes. " _Ready?"_ she asked softly, tightening her grip on his hand. She didn't want to let go, and frankly, neither did he.

With his weakness in the face of Malice… he wondered if it would kill him.

But he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Khana let go, releasing him back to reality, and he dropped to Ganon's back, boots instantly sinking into the oozing Malice as if it were wet mud. Almost instantly he could feel something tingling in his feet, cold and fiery all at once, slowly spreading upwards. _Can't be good._

Teeth clenched, he dragged himself forwards, wincing at the revolting sucking sound each time he yanked his feet free. After only a few steps he reached the first eye; it was small, but still larger than his torso. With a roar he swung the Master Sword, piercing its center, and it popped like a bubble, vanishing with a flash of purple smoke. Link coughed painfully and waded to the next eye, and the next, until he was knee-deep in Malice right next to the biggest eye.

The core of Ganon's being. It swivelled, blinked, looked right at him; teeth clenched he slashed at its surface and it blinked rapidly, Malice oozing like tears, but did not disintegrate. _This one's more resilient._

He attacked again, and again, and again, the Master Sword a gleam of brightest blue against the angry red and cruel violet. It was getting harder to breathe, even through his scarf; his breaths rasped in his lungs. And he heard a massive splash, a whoosh of water as Ganon stepped into the second river. Heard Ganon suck in a deep breath in preparation, perhaps, to launch a flaming assault. _No!_

He took the Master Sword tightly in both hands and wrenched his legs free from the Malice, dashing up the side of the massive eye and leaping upwards, pointing his blade downwards. With the full force of his body, every ounce of strength he possessed, he plunged the Master Sword through the eye, past the hilt, and like the others before, it popped. Dissolved into smoke.

And a moment later, Ganon's body followed suit as he roared in fury, and Link suddenly found himself falling, tumbling through a thick cloud of Malice, shooting ever downwards towards the river bellow.

A memory flashed through his mind—dark gray cliffs, shining blue arches, glistening waterfalls, a red-skinned Zora with a gentle face—and instinctively he straightened his body, legs pointed beneath him, arms above his head, making himself as small as possible as he plunged into the water. Sudden painful impact—cold—stinging pain, all across his body—couldn't breathe—numb—

He forced himself to move, striking out upwards towards a gleam of light on the surface. A gentle current tugged at him, tugged at his weary limbs, and he didn't bother to fight it, focusing instead on getting his head out of the water. A cool breeze on his face—he gasped for breath, lungs heaving, sucking in mouthful after mouthful of crisp spring air.

Coughing slightly, exhausted, he dragged himself to shore, content to lie there and lose consciousness and sleep for another hundred years, but a single thought stopped him— _Ganon's still there—I fell through him—_

He pushed himself to his feet, favoring his burned leg, and limped back towards the field, scampering up a rocky hill, tripping more than once on the uneven ground; when he reached the crest he could see Ganon undulating in the air over the field, piggy little eyes narrowed on a glowing figure standing tall in the grass, one hand raised. Link's eyes widened. _Is that…?_

A ball of light shot from her hand, swiftly growing, as bright as the sun itself; Link flinched. Ganon roared, flinching away, trying to escape, but the ball of light was too fast, too large; as it reached him it absorbed the cloudy smoke of his body, caging him within as it rocketed through the sky, passing high over Link's head and beyond, farther and farther and higher and higher until at last it was out of sight. The clouds in the sky began to slow; the angry crimson light faded, replaced with the pale cream of dawn on the horizon.

 _It's over,_ Link realized, his heart pounding fast in his chest. _We've won._


	26. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Kass soared past the Ruto Precipice, enjoying the rush of wind over and between his feathers, sending slight chills down his spine and providing slight relief from the relentless heat of late summer. The river below reflected the mountain walls and clouds above, yet despite the shade and the promise of rain the wilderness was almost as sweltering as it would be without the clouds.

Kass much preferred Rito Village, as it was _never_ so warm, even in the summer.

 _Although,_ he mused, _perhaps it is because I live in a place so cold that this air feels so abnormally hot._ There would be some sort of natural explanation, he supposed, but he much preferred to let nature have its way and not worry about the _why._

There were so many other things to worry about, anyway. But it was difficult to think about them when the heat gripped his head in a sweaty vise. _Kakariko will be cooler, at least,_ he hoped, gliding lazily on the warm drafts wafting in from the ocean nearby. To be fair, of course, he hadn't expected Zora's Domain to be as hot as it had been, but it was made of stone, which grew warm in the sun, so perhaps it made sense. Kakariko, however… it was a village nestled in the mountains, high in the mountains, so perhaps the greater elevation would at last bring him respite from the summer warmth.

The wind dropped a little and he flapped his wings, dipping down lower into the shadow of the mountains at his side. A finger of doubt curled around his soul.

As a bard, he prided himself on weaving story into song. Yet, try as he might, he could not seem to find any solid tales on how, in Din's name, Ganon had been defeated. Only a handful of people, the managers and guests of the Woodland Stable at the time, had actually witnessed part of that final battle, from a distance,of course. Flashes of light arcing through the sky, the Princess shrouded in golden light, and a man.. A shadowy man with a blade glowing blue, stabbing straight through Ganon before tumbling to the river below, practically right on the river's doorstep.

And that was it.

Kass sighed heavily. The stable manager, Kish, had at least confirmed that the shadow-man was in fact the Hero's Shade, the same mysterious being said to be travelling the land doing good deeds, but so little still was known… _Not much yet to sing a song about,_ he mourned, beating his wings.

In the months following Ganon's demise, he had travelled from Rito Village to Goron City to Zora's Domain, those areas home to Divine Beasts mysteriously set free. Here, too, stories and rumors of a shadowy man with a shining blade. _So clearly this person was influential in Ganon's defeat—but how? What exactly did he do?_ He couldn't very well make much of a song out of that—"Oh, have you heard, the tale of the Hero's Shade, who went through the land doing good deeds and freed Divine Beasts and at last with the Princess' aid proved to end Calamity Ganon's reign?" He could imagine the awkward pause afterwards, and the hasty explanation—"That's, er, all there is to the story."

No. He couldn't do that.

Frowning, he soared over the Rutala dam and tucked his wings close to his sides, gaining a brief rush of speed as he turned further westward, following the mighty river below in the hopes that somehow it would be cooler. He was on his way to Kakariko, where the former Princess was said to be living. She had been there when Ganon fell, had played a crucial role in vanquishing him… perhaps she would have the answers he needed.

The sky darkened further. Thick rainclouds were swiftly growing heavy above him as he flew over the Samasa plain.

He tilted his head, thinking deeply. It was curious, he thought, that the Princess had made no attempt to install herself as Hyrule's ruler. But in a way he could understand; Hyrule and its people had survived, had thrived, for a century without a single unifying power. The individual races ruled themselves, and the Hylians had become successfully independent, relying only on local leaders to guide them. It made sense that the Princess did not want to upset the peace that had fallen by trying to force things back to the way they'd been.

Rain began to fall, big heavy drops tumbling from the sky, swiftly soaking into his feathers and weighing them down. Lightning struck nearby and thunder cracked, shaking the earth. Kass beat his wings heavily, heart racing, and deliberated for a moment— _Do I continue or stop for the day?_

Another fork of lightning split the sky and he made his decision, folding his wings to his sides and plunging downwards, pulling up at the last moment and hovering for a moment, scanning the ground for a rocky overhang, a cave, some sort of shelter. A strong wind ruffled his damp feathers and he shivered, flying towards the Rabia Plain—no caves or anything, but surely it would be better to hide beneath the boughs of trees than to wait out in the open.

As he neared, he saw nestled within a thick copse of pines a simple cottage, only one room, made of logs and stones, with golden light spilling from the windows and a thin trail of smoke weaving up from the chimney. A small stable stood nearby; within he could see a little mare with silvery splotches across her coat. An odd spot for a dwelling, to be sure, in the middle of nowhere—but Kass was grateful. _Perhaps they might be willing to shelter me._

He landed lightly and swiftly approached the simple front door, knocking politely. After a moment a woman answered the door, her dark hair tumbling down behind her ears, violet eyes quickly switching from relieved to confused. She glanced outside, studying the storm, and then stepped aside, beckoning. "Please; come in. You must be freezing."

"I don't want to intrude—" Kass began, but the woman shook her head.

"Have you seen the skies?" she asked him, a smile playing at her lips. "This won't be over soon, I'd wager. Please stay here, where you'll be safe."

Kass bowed. "Thank you." Hesitantly he stepped inside; it was a very simple home, with only one room, one bed, a desk, and a bookcase and a cupboard. He sat before the fire and stretched his wings out, sighing happily. "Do you… live here all alone?"

She blushed slightly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "No; my husband lives here, too… He'll be back soon, I hope, although he's certainly stubborn at times—I wouldn't put it past him to stay out until he catches something."

Kass nodded slowly, thinking. "And… Kakariko is not far; I suppose you're not entirely isolated…"

The woman laughed. "No. Not with Impa as a neighbor, and her sister, at times. And several children with a fondness for exploring."

Kass tilted his head, thinking of his daughters. "Children come here? Certainly Kakariko is not far, but for children…"

"They take our horse, Mist," the woman explained. "She's very patient with them."

"Why don't you live in Kakariko?" Kass asked. "If you have friends there…"

The woman smiled gently. "We prefer the wilderness. We can find everything we need to survive right on the Rabia Plain—water, food, supplies for tools and building. It feels more peaceful out here than in the midst of a bustling village, small though it may be, and if eventually we have children we're not so isolated that they wouldn't have a chance to learn and play with other children as well."

Kass studied her curiously. "It seems you've given this a lot of thought," he noted.

The woman shrugged. "What about you?" she wondered. "What brings a Rito so far east?"

"I'm searching for something," he sighed, turning his gaze back to the flames. "Though I'm not certain that I'll ever find it…"

"Perhaps it is best that some things remain hidden."

Kass turned in surprise as a hooded figure entered the cottage, a bag smelling strongly of fish slung over one shoulder. Kass's eyes widened—the man's eyes burned red; snowy white hair framed his youthful gray features. _The Hero's Shade. Nayru's love, he_ does _exist…_

"I believe you're the very person I was looking for," he realized excitedly. "You—you vanquished Ganon!"

The white-haired young man scratched his head awkwardly. "Well… I helped," he admitted.

"Will you tell me how it happened?" Kass asked eagerly. "I'm a bard by trade—I've been searching for _months_ for the story behind this!"

The young man exchanged a glance with the violet-eyed woman and took her hand. "This is perhaps our only shot at a normal life," he murmured softly. "If people know what we did… what _I_ did… even if they knew I was here… we might lose it all."

Kass felt a sinking feeling in his heart. Of course the man had a point—he was already a legend, which was a heavy burden to place on anyone's shoulders. And the fact that he was so visibly… _different…_ it made sense that he would want solitude, to avoid curious stares. "I understand," he said heavily. "So you feel that… that this story, at least, is something that should remain hidden?"

The young man nodded gravely. "But you've come all this way for a story."

"Link," the woman protested, "if word gets out—"

Link shook his head, smiling ruefully. "He won't be the first to wonder what happened. It might be for the best that people are given an explanation and then told that the hero and the enchantress went into hiding, to live out the rest of their days in peace." He met Kass's gaze. "I'll tell you what happened, if you include that last bit."

Kass smiled gratefully and Link sat down beside his wife, turning his gaze to the flames. Inhaling deeply, he began to speak.

"The Yiga had been waiting for a century, waiting for the perfect opportunity to exact their revenge on the Sheikah and the Hylians, to plunge the kingdom into eternal darkness. But though they were well aware of threats from without, they did not account for dissension from within, piercing straight to their heart…"

* * *

FIN

* * *

 **So I just wanted to say, thank you so much to everyone who read this story! I had no idea that so many people would want to read it, and it really makes me so happy that you've all made it to the end with me!**

 **I would first and foremost like to thank you for sticking with me all this way, and a special shout-out goes to everyone that reviewed. So thank you Ania Nicole, Guest, StraightedgeEpyon, Kaze, Nombot, The Big Bad Wolf-9, Koblenz, James Birdsong, damsel0of0darkness, OnePunchFan8, Londonbongo, Pandora Finesilver, Aura, TBDawnWMPC, Callie, 23, RedtheWolf2, and XMarkZX for all of your very kind reviews! I know I haven't replied to all of you, and I'm really sorry about that—in future stories, I have a better idea about responding to reviews, so be on the look out for that!**

 **I'm also extremely grateful for absolutely everyone who decided to give this story a chance! In November alone, it's gotten hits from nineteen different countries! Thank you, all of you!**

 **My main reason for writing anything isn't attention or popularity. I write because I love to; I write because it helps me work through issues that I'm dealing with; I write because if my writing was able to help me, perhaps it can help someone else as well.**

 **As far as this story and future fanfictions go… I absolutely love the world of Breath of the Wild, but I didn't want to write a novelization because I was really happy with other novelizations that are out there and didn't feel like I could do any better. My goal with fanfictions is to write something unique, something that doesn't get boring or repetitive over time. So a story in which a Yiga Clan assassin falls in love with the very person she was sent to kill… I thought that would be a fun story to write, and hopefully a fun story to read as well. I've let you know my plans for future fanfics; it'll be awhile before I start writing it (because I've had an idea for a non-fanfiction story that's been waiting a long time to be written) but I will get there eventually! Until then… have a great life!**


End file.
